


Terminal Frost

by PlumTea



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merag is crowned the new queen of Poseidon, but with rising tensions between her kingdom the vicious empire clawing at her borders, there’s nothing but a world of headaches ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dethroned and Deceased

The funeral hall stunk of nightmarish lilies.

Two coffins lay solemnly before her, overflowing with flowers. Merag had already grown tired of fake condolences.

Nasch held his head high. He had to rush over from the temples, and the heavy ceremonial veils still lay draped over his head. Only the priests were allowed to wear white, and Nasch looked as sickly as the lilies packed in the caskets. She had stared at her closet for hours until she finally decided on a dress as gray as sea salt. The opaque fabric clung close to her thin frame, and the layers of dreary tulle hid her scarred, knobby knees.

They looked like decorated corpses. They were only ten years old.

"I can't believe it." Nasch said. His voice was more hollow than she ever wanted to hear.

All Merag could muster was a grim, "I know."

"I," she heard his teeth grind, "I should have just slipped away from prayer for the day! An hour, even! I should have-"

"It's not your fault," she assured him, taking his hands into hers. She didn't have to see his expression to feel his shaking fingers.

The funeralgoers murmured behind them, asking if the high priest in training was all right. The intrusive questions beat on her ears until she couldn't stand it any more and shouted for them all to leave. The guards barred from the outside, leaving the twins alone with stained glass windows and empty caskets.

"There's nobody here now," she told her brother, "You can cry now."

Nasch trembled. He didn't kneel or bow his head, but hastily muttered his prayers. "Come, let us not dwell in emotion. Come, let us not fall to the danger of sorrow. Come, let us be mindful and see the light at the edge of the swamp…" His voice was cracking. "O, I will not hate the causes of my death. Hate not the snake that bites, the blade that cuts, the sea that swallows. The finality is an illusion, and I will not live for the end but of the peace that lies beyond, so says the great gods and those beyond…"

She gripped his hand tighter.

"Death is the most valuable and the greatest of merits, do not weep for the departed, do not, do not—" He finally let out a mournful sob. "I should have been there. I should have given them my blessings. I should've at least seen them off! There were no storms on the sea, how could this have happened—?"

Merag held her brother and let him cry on her shoulder.

There were no bodies recovered from the sunken ship, so she had to imagine her parents in the white caskets.

Her father was between the lilies with his gruff voice caught in his throat, never able to give her advice again. Her hand flashed to the dull blue pendant around her neck. No more days teaching her how to hold a sword. No more meetings sitting eagerly by his side.

Her mother was between the lilies with her lips pulled tightly together, strict even in sleep. No more carriage rides through the city. No more times picking out dresses from the tailors' workshops.

Nasch wept beneath his veils, and she could tears pricking her eyes. He wished he'd been at the docks, but her heart ached whenever she thought of how she stayed up late the night of their parting, throwing pillows at the wall and crying into her bedsheets. She was their daughter, not their political pawn! She sulked whenever they taunted her with talk of the greater good and cursed them before she slept. She stood at the docks to bid them farewell, but her goodbyes were cold and bitter. She had prayed and prayed that something would go wrong, and her parents had returned in dismal reports and scattered rumors.

They were gone, and the crown hung on her head now.

"I don't know how," she said, "but I'll find out the truth. For them. For us."

"Can you?"

She scoffed and put on a brave face. "Are you doubting me, brother dear?"

Nasch broke his tears with a snort. "It doesn't matter whether I do or don't, you'll do it anyway." His voice was still cracked, but he sounded a bit like his old self. He turned wordlessly to the caskets, then to the doors and the people beyond it. "Are you ready?"

"Of course I am." She'd spent hours practicing her public eulogy to the mirror until every pause was smoothed over.

"I meant for the Conference. Father and Mother died before they could finalize with the peace agreement with R'lyeh," his words made her lips turn down a bit, "so you're going to have to discuss what's next with the nobles. You don't think R'lyeh would just give up and turn their ships away from the border, do you?"

"No, I don't." She frowned, turning her gaze away. "It was a horrible idea, anyway."

If Nasch had noticed, he decided not to say anything. "It's time," he said, and she hardened her expression again.

The morticians shuffled in, lifted the caskets up on their shoulders, and carried the them to the shore. She held Nasch's hand in hers again, and together they watched the boats bearing the nauseous lilies float out to the sea.

She set her lips tightly together, and didn't look away until the boats floated out of sight to be claimed by the sea.


	2. A Nation’s Scene

 

The Grand Conference of the four islands had been called together for its fourth emergency meeting of the year. With the death of her father and mother, and an army at their border, there was no time to waste. 

The Conference revolved from island to island, so she sailed her ship to western Despoine, where the great while villa of its king shone in the sun. _It wasn’t worth it to climb all those stairs just for a gathering_ , she griped as she heaved her dress over marble and stone, but parties were parties. What were politics without extreme formality? 

Harsh eyes were on her the moment she walked into the ballroom. The ladies hid their frowns behind their fans, and the men clenched their jaws, but she kept her head high. The nobles of Despoine, no, of any of the other islands, loathed the power she held at such a young age. She’d fussed over her clothes for hours, even if Nasch did nothing but roll his eyes at her antics. If she was going to be glared at so fiercely like this,  look good.  

Lord Blackray, the current King of Despoine, was the only royal to blatantly ignore everyone that tried approaching him. He wasted no time on socializing, and went straight to the wine table. A downed glass did nothing to budge his stern expression. He stood a good head above everyone else, and would surely tower over her if she happened to stand by his side. He’d slicked back his black hair today, but the blue streaks framing his face were still as unkempt as ever. The dark jacket and loose pants around his lithe form hid the burns he’d sustained during one of his war campaigns, but she could spot some marred skin peeking out from the mauve edges of his clothes. Whenever he visited, Blackray always shirked her company in favor of her brother’s, but now she would have no choice but to deal with his snippy attitude.

She dawdled by the stained glass windows, sipping idly at her drink. The less people that spoke to her, the better. Whatever they said with their poisonous tongues was nothing but nonsense. 

A commotion rose up from the middle of the room as murmurs turned into a frenzy of whispers. The guests cast troubled looks towards the woman who entered the room on crystal tipped heels. She was definitely an eye-turner, from the glass beads strung into her powder blue dress to her green-tipped eyes. Her hair was short now, burned off from an encounter with smugglers and their fire arrows, and she hid the snipped ends with a cap of lace and teardrop diamonds. Lady Harpyia, the Queen of Arion in the north, was unquestionably lovely to the eye, and not even the jagged battle scars on her long legs could change that. 

Harpyia’s spy network was unparalleled throughout the four kingdoms, no matter how many doubtful nobles said otherwise. One step out of line and she was sure to crush the offender into the dust- or so Merag’s mother had said. Harpyia caught her gaze through the crowd and shot a coy smile. Merag returned the gesture, but quickly returned to her glass. 

This party was a prison of dignified attire and red wine. She wished she could climb out one of the windows, but then she’d be no more dignified than Nasch. She slid over to the refreshment table and munched on some stuffed clams.

“Oh my, you look wonderful today, Merag.” There was only one person that silvery voice could belong to. It was easy for Merag to put on a smile. Out of all the nobles, Lady Ondyne was the closest to her age, and the only noble she could call her friend. Her long wavy hair had been braided into a tight bun, and her eyelids were powdered a pale blue. She held herself delicately, and wore a navy blue dress of layered lace that lightly brushed the floor and made her look like she was floating. A necklace of sharp pointed crystals fanned out along her pale collarbone and glinted dangerously in the light. As the Queen of Rhode in the east, nobody dared stand by her side for too long, but she drifted along and spoke with whoever she chose to.

“Thank you, Sylphie.”

“Have you tried the berry platter?” Ondyne was plum-lipped, but what could have easily been a dreadful dye looked flattering. 

Merag laughed and shook her head. “No, I’m not really in the mood for food.”

“Ah, yes. This is your first Conference, right?”

She nodded, but Ondyne just playfully pinched her arm. “Well, you’re strong enough. Shape up! It’s a battleground in there. You’ll get no mercy.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Blackray’s gruff voice boomed through the ballroom. “Thank you for your patience, and I welcome all of you to Despoine for the Grand Conference. Please enjoy the buffet and refreshments. In the meantime, my fellow royals, please follow me to the Red Room.” He gestured towards a set of ornately decorated metal doors, heaved open by five servants each.  

Ondyne linked arms with Merag and nudged her lightly in the ribs. “Come on, we have to go.”

The Red Room was accurately named. A wide stained glass window overlooked the joined sea between the four islands and made each undulating wave shine with a different color. A large round mahogany table stood strong in the middle of the room, lined with four stalwart wooden chairs. There were no guards inside, but Merag could hear them shuffling around the door right before the thick doors thudded shut. The other royals strode to their chairs, and Merag stood behind the last one available.

She straightened her back and swallowed her breath. “My fellow Kings and Queens, thank you for coming together so quickly. As the one who summoned us all here,” her voice was growing stronger and stronger, “I call that the Grand Conference of the Four Kingdoms begin.”

They all took their seats. “Queen of Telos,” Blackray said, “You have the floor.”

Merag curled her fingers in towards her palms. This wouldn’t be easy. “The Empire of R’lyeh is at our door. We can’t let them stay there any longer.”

“They haven’t actually bypassed the border between our kingdoms and theirs, but their warships are still staring us down. How bold of them.” Harpyia snapped open her white fan with a sharp swish. 

Blackray crossed his arms firmly over his chest. “Obviously they’re just waiting to attack us. They’ll just gather up more arms and supplies the more we wait. Are we just going to let them stay there? We’ll seem weak.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Harpyia’s honeyed voice was as sharp as needles, “This is obviously one of the emperor’s ploys. Lord Asteron likes that, you know? He’ll lure us into attacking first and if we lose, we’ll shoulder all the blame and be executed by our own people. It’s his favorite tactic.”

Merag frowned. Not even five minutes and this was going nowhere. “We can talk all we want about who did what, but what are we all going to do?”

“Didn’t the late King and Queen of Telos try to negotiate peace with R’lyeh?” Ondyne said, and Merag felt the hairs on her neck bristle. “They died before they could even meet the Lord Asteron for the final terms, and there were no witnesses to the ship sinking.” She huffed, and crossed her arms. “Doesn’t that seem a little too convenient?”

“Unfortunately, there’s no proof,” Harpyia’s normally cool expression was marred with a faint frown. “Not even one additional ship of the R’lyehian navy was dispatched, and the ones already on the sea didn’t deviate from their routes. The accompanying ships traveling before and after their majesties didn’t spot any abnormalities, either. Even if R’lyeh decided to hire mercenaries or pirates to attack their majesties, any ship would have had to pass at least one to get to them. As suspicious as it is, it’s sadly, impossible.”

Ondyne wasn’t fazed. “Your spies are unparalleled but you can’t say that you might have not overlooked something.”

Harpyia hid her lips behind her fan and said nothing, but Merag could spot a cruel smirk curling up her cousin’s face. 

It didn’t seem as if Ondyne was done. She cooly glanced at Merag, and Merag had to suppress a shudder. In that glance, it was clear in politics, there could be no friendship. “Queen of Telos,” that light voice was suddenly so harsh, “do you plan on continuing your parents’ work?”

The floor was on Merag. She sat up straighter and took a deep breath. “No, I won’t.”

The room plunged into silence. Blackray didn’t even bother to hide his frown. “Why not? It’s just a marriage. The crown prince Vector isn’t nearly as vicious and demanding as his father.”

Merag scoffed, tossing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “He’s frail. Marry him?” She wanted to sneer at the thought. “All I did was give him a light shove, and he fell down and started crying. He’s better off playing with his pet rabbits than being my husband.”

“Isn’t that better? You can easily manipulate him into doing what you want.” Ondyne leaned back in her chair. “Don’t you want to exert your influence over R’lyeh once Lord Asteron dies?”

“Better? If that’s what you want to call better, that’s your own definition,” Merag’s eyes thinned, “Even my brother wouldn’t have had any trouble getting right back up without complaint. To think that I’d marry someone so pitiful is insulting, Queen of Rhode.”

“Aren’t you selfish?” Harpyia raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Aren’t we all? If you’re all so desperate for a royal to marry into the R’lyehian family, then why don’t you have my brother marry him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Blackray growled, “His eminence has his duties to the temples. You know he can’t marry anyone.”

“Then why don’t you do it, King of Despoine?” Merag put on her sweetest smile. “Didn’t your wife die recently? You’re a much better candidate than someone like me.”

Blackray snorted. “Cheeky brat.”

She nodded at the compliment. “I’m not marrying. Especially not someone spineless like _him_.”

“Either way, R’lyeh is on hold at the moment,” Blackray grumbled. “The former empress just died, after all. Lord Asteron claims that he needs time to mourn her death, so there won’t be war for at least a week.”

“Mourn her death,” Harpyia giggled, “The thought! They never agreed on anything.” 

Ondyne scowled in her chair. “Unfortunately, that works against us. The only things that could have possibly slipped past the guard ships unnoticed would be the disgusting serpents of her late imperial majesty. If Lord Asteron never got along with his mother, there’s no way he could have possibly convinced her to do anything like an assassination. She’d turn down the proposal just because it came from him.”

“Lord Asteron doesn’t have an ounce of magical talent inside him,” Harpyia cooly replied, “Her late imperial majesty made no secret of her displeasure with that fact. _That_ works in our favor, since we don’t have to face those dreadful creatures of hers. It’s much easier to kill men than monsters.”

Ondyne pursed her lips together. “I thought we were trying to find a peaceful resolution. Or have we changed our minds?”

Merag’s frown was deepening more and more. “R’lyeh has been wanting to grab our lands for generations. They want our ports, our soil, and everything we have. My father always told me how he had to keep R’lyeh’s late imperial majesty from grabbing Telos from right beneath him. We’ve bartered and negotiated, and there’s still a fleet on our borders. They won’t listen to us unless we fight.”

“You’re quite brave for saying that, Queen of Telos,” Lord Blackray dryly said, “Out of the four of us, Telos has the smallest military. And you have no personal experience on the battlefield. Do you intend to fight the empire’s navy all by yourself?”

It took all of Merag’s self control to keep her expression neutral. “No, not by myself.” She pulled her spine straight, and stood, throwing her voice around the room. “My fellow Kings and Queens, let’s be realistic. Let’s say R’lyeh attacks- which it will. Telos will fight, and if I’m defeated, then Lord Asteron will have access to the center of our islands, and be able to tear you all down with ease. Either we all fight, or we all fall. But we can’t do that if we’re arguing against each other.” 

All of the attention was on her. She’d thought this over again and again, and she wasn’t going to let this chance all go to waste. Her heart froze into hard ice, and she looked to all the royals without faltering. “As individual islands, we’re weak in the face of an empire’s forces. So, I propose an alliance between the four of us. We’ll unite our ports, our resources, our economies, and most importantly, our militaries. Even if R’lyeh decides to attack one of us, then the other three will funnel in support to keep a strong front. That way, we won’t break even under siege.”

The three royals stared in silence, but Merag held herself strong. The quietness was heavy on her shoulders, but she was willing to stand as long as she needed to. 

Blackray slowly broke the silence. “So now you’re saying that we should work together? Interesting proposal, Queen of Telos. In that case, we need counsels, written agreements-”

“Oh, stop dodging,” Harpyia harshly cut him off, “We’re all thinking the same thing, but nobody has the courage to say it. ‘If there’s going to be an alliance, then one of us four is going to have to step up and be the leader.’ Which means that the other three will lose their position.” She leaned on her hands and put on an elegant smile. “So,” she said with sweetness on her tongue, “which one is it going to be?”

“I announce my candidacy,” Merag said, raising her hand. “It was my parents that reached out first for negotiations. If it comes to actually fighting a war, it’s my responsibility to finish what they started.”

Blackray was the next to stand, “I mean no offense, but Despoine has fought far more wars than your kingdom has. We’re used to taking military action, and R’lyeh wouldn’t stand a chance under our guidance.”

“Rhode is closest to the empire,” Ondyne said, more firm than willowy in her chair, “If R’lyeh decides to attack, my kingdom will be the first to lose men. I’ll bear full responsibility to lead the vanguard.”

Merag frowned. This was going nowhere. Every person would vote for themselves and leave the kingdoms with no defensive strategies. She was queen for two weeks and she already felt her stomach churn with nausea. Politics? It was more like propping useless barriers before action.

“Aren’t you all convincing?” Harpyia teased, “In that case, I cast my vote for the Queen of Telos.”

Merag’s eyes widened. She almost didn’t believe her ears until Lady Ondyne let out a loud gasp. “For Lady Merag? Why her, Queen of Arion? She just ascended to her position a few weeks ago!”

“I thought this was based off majority rule,” Lady Harpyia bluntly said, her smile unmoving. “Or are we now bartering with each other for titles?”

There was no more dissent after that. 

Harpyia glanced at Merag, ushering her to stand. “So, what will our alliance be called? I hope you don’t consider calling this new union ‘Telos’, like your home island.”

Merag stood, “No, of course not. Telos, Despoine, Rhode, Arion- they will all keep their names as islands. But as a kingdom, no, as a union, we’ll have a different name. All of us share the Poseidon Ocean, so why don’t we use that as our name? Instead of four separate kingdoms, we will be known as the Four Islands of the Poseidon Ocean.”

“I think the ‘Four Islands’ sounds terrible” Ondyne said, “Why not call us the ‘United Lands’ instead?”

Merag nodded. “Yes, I think that works out just fine. From today forth, our four front alliance shall be known as the United Lands of the Poseidon Ocean. I may be your new queen, but I don’t intend to remove you from power. You will be my council, and you’ll continue governing your islands as you’ve always done, but this time as my dukes and duchesses. I hope that sounds satisfactory to you.”

“As long as you don’t wrestle away my economics, then I don’t see a problem.” Ondyne shot Merag a sly wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll support you to the end. Now, should we let our people know of the decision?”

The announcement was more well-received than Merag imagined, with only twenty minutes of loud whispering and only three broken wine glasses. As much as she liked attention, the way some of the nobles were eyeing her with requests on their tongues for the queen of their new country just made her want to slip away into a corner. Or throw them all out the window. Either one worked.

She spotted Lady Harpyia lounging in a chair by the wine table, munching on spicy oysters, contently ignoring the rest of the rabble.  

“Lady Harpyia,” Harpyia looked up from beneath her heavy eyelashes, and Merag found herself stumbling for words. What could she say? Harpyia had handed her the crown, and willingly lowered her own position. She wrung her hands, and tried not to puff up her cheeks. “Thank you very much for your support-”

“Oh don’t do that,” the woman replied, her eyes fixed on Merag’s joined hands. Merag quickly broke them apart, and Harpyia let out a small giggle.. She offered Merag a seat and held up the plate. “Oyster?”

“No thank you,” Merag said, smoothing out her skirt. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m just a little surprised you didn’t want the throne yourself.”

Harpyia let out a light laugh and shook her head, silk and beads clinking together. “Really, do you honestly think I could live the ascetic life? It’s fine when it’s just my kingdom, all my people are eccentric. But all four kingdoms looking at me- I’d have to actually tone down my personal life. The title’s not worth it.”

“Then why me?”

“If you didn’t want to be queen, you shouldn’t have announced your candidacy.”

“No, it was my responsibility. But I half expected you to say that I was too young.”

“You’d be surprised what young people can do,” Harpyia let out a snort. “Blackray’s an excellent general, but he’s too stiff. He doesn’t have the flexibility to deal with four islands’ worth of dissent. Ondyne is cunning, but she doesn’t have the spine to withstand a long assault.”

“A long assault?”

“Oh yes,” Harpyia spooned another oyster into her mouth. “The R’lyehian royal family’s a frightening one. If they’re slighted, they don’t stop until their accuser is dead.” She chewed her food slowly, but her lips curled down. “I still remember when my father took me there when I was young, and the previous empress still reigned. She was terrifying. A real monster“

“The late empress?”

“Oh, yes. The whole family’s mad, you know. That woman with those three serpents of hers just smiled at my father and I. After a while, you can tell what sort of person someone is by looking at their eyes. Lord Asteron’s violent, but obnoxiously truthful. His mother… she was just waiting for my father to say something wrong. The kind of woman that loves seeing other people die.”

Without a single notice, Harpyia quickly sprung back to her amused, unbothered self, “Luckily for us, Lord Asteron doesn’t  have an ounce of magic in his blood. And if the crown prince is… what did you call him?”

“What _didn’t_ I call him?”

“Of course. Quite surprising that he’s so feeble then, considering his bloodline. But either way, it’s unlikely his mother will let her son fight in a war just yet. Whether he has magic or not will be a hurdle to crush when it appears. As for the war- and it’s very much a war- it’ll be a much easier to fight if we don’t have to deal with those creatures of theirs.”

Merag leaned in closer at that, a frown mottling her brow. “Creatures? I thought you said you hadn’t heard any reports on the bloodline’s magic.”

“…Snakes …well, I suppose they are snakes, in one way or another. R’lyeh is a land of mysticism and magic. You didn’t honestly think they _wouldn’t_ have otherworldly creatures serving them, did you?” Lady Harpyia stood up from her seat, handing her empty plate to a passing servant. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” she said, winking over her shoulder at Merag. “We’re all counting on you.”

Merag was left frowning in her chair. She clasped her hands together and wrung them until her palms bled. 

She was queen, and her kingdom was going to war. 


	3. Beyond the Sea-Wall

“I can’t believe you’re holding one of the most important ceremonies on the day I have to leave.”

“You can’t believe it? I can’t believe you’re going to lead the vanguard.”

She adjusted the sword at her side. It was beautiful in the light, and a bit heavier than her sparring swords. There wouldn’t be practice on the seas. Her armor was weighty on her body, too golden for her tastes. “Blackray, Ondyne, and Harpyia are all going to lead their men. Some queen I’d be if I didn’t join them.”

Nasch crossed his arms. “Generals go off to war while their queen stays away from the front lines. That’s what queens _do_.”

She scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “Nasch, really. You wouldn’t take your own advice.”

With a sigh, he folded up his scrolls shoved them in a basket with his jars of powders. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You’re not being honest with yourself.”

“Mother and Father just died. I’m not losing you, too.”

She shook her head and smiled. Typical. “Do you _really_ think some empire is going to kill **me**?”

“They’d better not.”

“Pray hard for me, brother dear.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Her brother pulled his white veil over his face and took his leave. “You’ll have the wind with you and calm seas even if I have to triple the offerings to Abyss.”

She could only muster a sad smile.

Ondyne couldn’t stop laughing. Merag frowned, but Ondyne didn’t seem to quite pick up on the hint. “Ah, his eminence is really the stubborn one! You two are such a duo.”

“It’s not _that_ funny.”

“It is! Maybe it’s the magic of being born as twins?”

Merag’s cheeks puffed out as she pouted. “Nasch isn’t that easy to get along with! He’s a bully that steals my things when I’m not looking!”

“Don’t you steal his things too?”

Merag could only winced. 

“That makes me miss not seeing him in- has it really been a year now?”

It felt like far longer than that. One year ago, Ondyne had sailed to Telos with bundles of her favorite roses and stacked platters of the fruits of the late harvest. Merag remembered her parents fussing over how brash and rude Queen of Rhode was, and warned Merag to cut off their friendship. They seemed a little disheartened when all Ondyne did was chat with Merag about the latest gossip and badmouth just about every noble in the four islands. They should have known better. Even at seven, Merag could spot sweet words, and Ondyne was nothing but daggers. 

“I’d leave the manipulation to Harpyia,” Ondyne had scoffed when Merag told her the news. “Or maybe to Blackray- then we can all get a good laugh.” 

Ondyne’s sharp tongue threw everyone off with her demure looks, but Merag still hadn’t expected her to be waiting aboard the royal flagship. Ondyne’s long hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, and her tailored armor jutted out awkwardly from her body. Even with all of  Ondyne’s accomplishments at sea, her friend looked far too innocent to kill a man. 

Then again, so did she. 

“About that long. But you really didn’t have to come on my ship.”

“You stop that,” Ondyne waved off the complaints with a flick of her finger. “What sort of admiral would let her young queen go into her first war unprotected? And more importantly, what sort of person would I be if I didn’t support my friend?”

Merag smiled earnestly. Somehow, hearing that felt good. “Thank you, Lady Ondyne.”

“Enough with that Lady stuff,” Ondyne sighed, rolling out a map before the navigator. “We’re going out to war, and if I die, I’m not going to die being some stuffy Lady. And if you die- which you won’t, but let’s say you do- you really want to be known as some boring old child Queen or as Merag?”

Why in the name of all the Gods, Ondyne put herself up for candidacy was a mystery, but Merag let the duchess’ words settle in. “I’ll consider it, Sylphie.”

Ondyne snorted with laughter and turned to the maps. “On seas this calm, they’ll spot us when we’re about thirty minutes away from the border.”

“So, a sneak attack’s impossible.” Merag frowned at that, and readjusted the sword on her hip. The blade the armory had given her was about half her height, and clunked on the floor if it wasn’t tightly secure. She gave it a good slap to keep it in place, and turned to the maps Ondyne had rolled out. 

The pictures on parchment looked so plain for a venue of war. Her glare pierced through the flimsy map like a blade, as if she was trying to command it to change her luck. “Lord Asteron chose the flattest part of the border to fight.” She clicked her tongue and turned to Ondyne. “How many ships did Harpyia say were stationed there?”

“Forty-three. Lord Asteron’s sailing back to R’lyeh so the royal flagship won’t be there.” Ondyne idly counted on her fingers, “I guess five of Lord Asteron’s admirals will lead the fleet. Those are almost insulting numbers.” She handed the spyglass to Merag and fixed the quiver on her back. “Well, it’ll make their defeat all the more humiliating!”

Forty-three ships with five admirals. The admirals would probably be encircled by their lesser ships to ensure their command would go unimpeded. She’d have to plow her way through at least one ship to get to even one admiral. 

A clamor of stomping feet and worried murmurs caught Merag’s ear. She peeked her head out of the room into a frenzy of soldiers dashing up and down, all gathering their weapons and trying not to bump into the men at the oars. One spearman rushed by the door, and she snagged his arm. “What’s going on? Are we being attacked?”

The soldier fumbled into a bow. “No, your royal highness. There’s a thick fog up ahead. The navigators are deciding whether to turn around it or not.”

Fog! Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lips tinged up at the corners. Thank you, Nasch! She’d be sure to order the cooks to pick out the onions and peppers for the next month! “Tell them to sail on ahead.”

“My lady?”

“That was an order! Signal Blackray and Harpyia’s ships to do the same! Hurry!” She let go of his arm and gave him a light shove towards the stairs, and he quickly scampered away.  

“Merag?” she must have been beaming, because Ondyne was looking at her with a hesitant smile. Her heart swelled up in her chest and she stormed across the room, with her arms swinging and energy flaring through every vein. “All praise Abyss! There’s a thick fog up ahead. They’ll never see us coming!”

Ondyne snorted. “Speak for yourself. He sunk three of my ships with one of his maelstroms. But I’ll give him a pass this time.”

Merag strode up onto the deck and yelled for battle stations. The sea lapped against the side of the ship, and the fog wet her cheeks. Her lungs tasted salt and sweat. 

She could make out half-formed shadows in the mist. The R’lyehian ships stretched out far across the horizon and loomed large and tall, the smallest of their sails was enough to smother half her ship from main mast to bowsprit. 

“Your royal highness, their ships are at least twice our size.” One of the soldiers by her side muttered, his fingers trembling along his spear. 

“That just means we’re faster.” She hoped, she only hoped.

Would they light their arrows and cut through the fog? Would they throw pitch and set her and her soldiers ablaze? 

Harpyia’s words of magic and mystery pounded in her head. _Magic. They could use magic._ How could she fight something against something she didn’t understand? Could she deflect pulses of energy that would tear through her nerves like fire on oil? What was magic anyway? Nasch with his eyes that saw beyond the waters and a thousand powders in glass jars was human. Blessed by Abyss or nothing, her brother wasn’t one of the abominations on those giant ships. His white robes and golden bands gave her no answers. 

 She swallowed that awful lump in her throat and looked towards the flickering lights floating through the fog. Flames of R’lyehian torches. Her men stampeded across the decks, tensing for battle. 

The war drums sounded, taut and rhythmic for the battle ahead.

These soldiers had never faced the militaristic might of the empire of R’lyeh. Even the previous empress had preferred to use her words and magic than incite an actual war. Merag’s sword trembled in her hip, and she raised a nervous hand to steady it. Ondyne strode to her side, signaling the archers with a swish of her hand. Their javelins wouldn’t do much at this distance- R’lyeh had the height advantage. 

Arrows hissed like snakes, and she raised her shield over her head. An ambitious arrowhead rammed through her shield, and scraped her thumb. She was queen, and her royal title drew the arrows to her. She had no shield of gold and jewels now. She was ten years old, and she was going to die. 

A thunderous crack like an axe whittling through timber sounded off the portside, as a R’lyehian ship drove its hull into a nearby ship. Wooden beams cracked and splintered, and the small ship didn’t stand a chance. It was the first ship lost, the one of many. She ground her teeth. She had sworn to remember each of her captains’ names, but her mind was a blank slate as he vanished beneath their lives. Dying men didn’t scream for their kingdom or their ruler, only for their own lives. 

She heard men yell as fire burned steadily through the ship ahead of her. The black pitch swelled with searing heat and ate through the ship’s bones, sending men and wood tumbling into the water.  Her father had told her there was fire in war, but watching orange flicker and burn made her want to curl up and hide beneath the deck. 

One of her ships surged forward, oars beating against the waters. She spotted Blackray at the helm, having wrestled it away from his cowering navigator. His ship left a gaping hole in the middle of the enemy ship, and water gushed in. The red sails wobbled, as if the ship were drunk, and within minutes, the ship was on the verge of toppling over. 

“Look at that,” Ondyne scoffed, jerking her head towards the R’lyehian ship swallowed up the waves. “That’s the second ship Blackray sank. Amazing.”

“Are we really going to let him show us up, Sylphie?” she half joked. 

Ondyne chuckled, stringing another arrow into her bow, “Yes, we are. He’s probably competing with Harpyia over who destroys the most ships. We shouldn’t get in the middle of that. Tried once. Was the worst idea of my life.”

Standing at the bow behind the ship Blackray had felled was a R’lyehian admiral with a red cape pinned around his shoulders. He was enraptured by the battle behind him, and had yet to turn around. 

“Hold!” she yelled. Hold until they were closer. Wood skimmed wood. The deck trembled beneath her feet. She spotted the archers pulling back their arms, and shouted to fire. A flurry of arrows picked off the R’lyehian archers, and they toppled over the rail into the water. 

Why weren’t they using their magic? If there were magicians on board, it should have been easy to sink her fleet. 

 _If_ there were magicians on board. 

Pitch and sword and shield and spear were all mundane weapons. A spark jolted her heart. She could do this. They had no magic- she could do this!

Oars pounded on the water, and she grit her teeth as the ships crashed together. Her teeth clanged violently together, and she grabbed the mast for support. The floor felt like it would give out beneath her, and how the wood _screamed_. Oarsmen dropped out of the R’lyehian vessel, some chained to their work, others struggling above the water. Her ship heaved back, and she braced herself again. 

They connected with a splintering smash, and her legs flew out from beneath her. 

Shouts and steel clashing. Fire crackling and oars splashing. War was so loud, and she wanted to hold her hands over her ears until she turned deaf. The corners of her eyes burned, and she gulped in salt and smoke. She couldn’t think of the screams clawing at her ears, or else she’d want to crawl away. 

A barrel exploded into flame behind her, and her head rattled as she hit the deck. She instinctively curled up, and she wanted to scream for her parents, for Nasch, for someone to come hold her and take her away. 

She’d loosed the arrow of war. It was her responsibility to watch where it fell, but it had been lit with flame and it was burning into her brain, and she had to get out of there, crawl across the water back home—

“Merag!” 

Someone was calling her name. Maybe she was just imagining it, like she was imagining the confusion of soldiers and blades in front of her. 

“Merag!” She was jolted up and forward. Ondyne had her hand, pulling her along. Her teeth rattled in her skull as she ran and ran and _ran_. An arrow clipped her cheek, and she felt the metal of her personal fleur-de-lis crest bounce against her hips, much louder than her pounding heart. The enemy was shooting arrows tipped with fire now, and she flinched as the heat seared her golden armor bronze. Her soldiers had slung grappling hooks across the enemy ship’s rail, and both she and Ondyne lead the charge over the splintered wood forming a shaky bridge into the gallery. 

The wood was wet, and slippery against her sabatons. She darted in, past the bulky rowers, collecting stray arrows and tossing them back to Ondyne, who’d expertly loosed every one into whoever stood up against her. Merag stormed up the stairs, darting her way past flesh, under steel, and onto the deck. Her target with his cloak of red turned towards her, and she broke into a dash. Ondyne’s arrows whizzed past her head, blocked steel with steel, and slid metal through flesh. A man charged at her, even taller with the white feathers on his helmet, and she left a bloody gash along his exposed stomach. She cleaved off limbs, opened bodies and rattled her blade against shields. 

The enemy admiral drew his blade, and it whistled right over her head. She angled her sword towards his gut but a sharp pain at the back of her head sent her stumbling. Her neck snapped back and she howled in pain. His ugly fingers were knotted in her blue locks, and she felt a blaze burning in her throat. She thrust her sword back until she felt metal tense against flesh, and the handle rattled when she hit the bones in his hand. Now! Now, now, now!

A scream tore out of her throat; so raw and feral that she hardly recognized it as her own, and out came the blade from the admiral’s hand. Warm blood hit her cheeks and she pulled her sword to her chest, just like she’d done so many times in practice. He kneeled over, bending his hand close in pain, and she thrust her sword forward. One deadly arc cleaved through sinew and bone. His head didn’t go flying like the way she pictured in her adrenaline filled daydreams, but slid forward. His body refused to die; stood strong and firm until it succumbed and fell forward. 

 _Thud_ , her sabatons were splattered red. 

Her lungs were dry, and she just wanting to listen to her screaming legs. Just a small kneel would have been enough, but she soon had to duck out of the way from a volley of arrows. How foolish she was, she bitterly thought, to think it would have ended with the admiral! 

She weaved out of the way from a slash aiming at her head. Merag turned, sword at the ready, but her assaulter already had steel through his tongue. Ondyne kicked the man overboard; her sword leaving a streak of red in the air as she returned it to her side. “Really,” she sighed, skewering a man who’d tried to sneak up behind her. “I’m so terrible with swords.”

Soldiers swarmed both of them, blades drawn to taste their flesh, but they ducked, twisted and parried out of the corner. One blade cut into Merag’s side, right between the sheets of her armor, and she let out a cry, stumbling back. Ondyne pulled her bowstring back as a soldier charged her from behind, and Merag lunged her blade right before Ondyne’s neck bled. The strike had cut Ondyne’s hairtie in two, and her long hair fell in waves around her shoulders. 

“All of you!” Ondyne shouted out, her voice in full viciousness, “Stop lazing around! Support your queen!” She jerked her chin towards their ship, and Merag understood, taking off, weaving past steel and blood. 

She leapt over corpses, and tried not to stumble on the slicked deck. All around her, soldiers of both colors coughed; some still fighting, most of them against the deck dying. She was too hazy to feel tired, wipe away her potential tears, think of anyone else. The open wounds on her body were biting and raw, but she kept running. 

She’d cut down anyone that dared meet her. She was not going to be the sheath to any steel sword. She was going to live and by the Gods, nobody had better get in her way. 

The makeshift bridge was still there between the two ships, made of stray wood and shifted beneath her feet. _More, more energy,_ she screamed as the bridged slipped from beneath her. If she hit the water, her armor would pull her down until the world went cold and black. Breathless and panting, she made one desperate leap towards the rail. 

She smashed against the side, her fingers snagging the very edge. Her armor was heavy and harsh, flushing her fingers bright red at the joints. An arrow embedded itself in the wood by her side, and she hadn’t the courage to look back. She nearly slid down in surprise, but she was far too weary to pull herself up. _This was it_ , she thought, here she’d hang and be shot by some ambitious archer. 

A soldier in the browns and blues of Poseidon gripped her hands tightly, and hauled her over the rail as arrows nipped at her heels. She muttered her thanks to him and quickly joined Ondyne, who was kneeling by the helm. 

“Did you do it?” Ondyne asked. Her pretty face was smudged with dirt, and the arrows in her quiver were decorated with fabric and flesh. 

Merag silently presented the scrap of red she’d torn from the admiral’s cloak, and Ondyne’s eyes glittered. 

“Not bad!” she exclaimed, playfully wrapping her arm around Merag’s shoulder. 

Merag’s first instinct was to protest, but she leaned into Ondyne’s shoulder. She felt her age now, but was too exhausted to cry. 

Ondyne didn’t push Merag away. “Pull back!” 

“No,” Merag muttered, “We have to keep going. We only took down one ship…” They had to take down a fifth of the invading force to stall them. She had to, she had to…

“One. We’ll crush anything that comes close,” Ondyne assured her. “You’re not taking on the R’lyehian fleet all by yourself. You have other ships. Let’s just be witnesses until some morons challenge us, okay?”

The crimson R’lyehian flag was consumed by orange and went up in a plume of flame. It danced against her eyes, and she watched it drop from the mast into the water. Her ship lurched back, leaving a lazy trail of foam, and she clutched that red scrap until her knuckles turned white. 

They’d won the day.


	4. A Silver Splendor

Merag couldn’t even force herself to smile. 

R’lyeh had sunk more of her ships, but Poseidon had killed more of their men. One of their admirals were dead, cut down by her own sword, and she’d already received word that Blackray and Harpyia were still stubbornly alive. She sipped her wine, and looked at the straight line of giant ships. She had offered R’lyeh a ceasefire, and they’d surprisingly agreed. 

She thanked the Gods that they did, because these battles were chipping away at her. She hadn’t lost as many men as she expected to, but the war had gone badly. Four days at sea, and her armor had lost its shine. Her personal emblem had suffered a small chip on the battlefield, and dangled sadly from her waist.

Ceasefires meant talks. Talks meant an exchange of terms. The moment Blackray and Harpyia arrived, she’d have to walk into the enemy’s stronghold. She reviewed her points over in her head, and grumbled when she couldn’t recite them all perfectly. She had to be poised and stiff, or else they’d attack her for her weaknesses. Neither side had won, but R’lyeh was bound to push towards any agreements that could weaken Poseidon. Weaken her. She sunk back in her chair and passed a hand over her eyes. The talks hadn’t even begun, and she was getting a headache.

There was a dead seagull in her lap. 

Merag picked it up by its foot and shook it. It swung limply, and she was almost disappointed that it didn’t spring to life and try to fly away. A small red hole dotted its breast, and if she held it up to the light, she could see a sliver of light worm through. “Sylphie, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Anything! Play with it if you want.”

She sighed, and tossed the seagull back. The enemy had been pacified, but the R’lyehian admirals were bound to give her trouble. Who knows what headaches they’d give her with their unreasonable demands? She’d heard more than enough stories from her father, of R’lyehian wordplay and written agreements so confusing and open-ended that resolved nothing. Her position was slightly more favorable in leading the talks, but it was a small advantage that would shrink the longer the discussions dragged on.

Merag was jolted from her thoughts by the seagull flopping before her. Ondyne covered her face with its body, and moved its wings up and down with her fingers. It almost looked like the seagull was alive, and waving its feathers sternly at her. “Merag!” she said, imitating a seagull’s high pitched cry, “Stop worrying! You won the war. All you have to do is have one dull meeting and you can go home.”

“But we didn’t actually win anything-” The seagull beat her head with its wings and she shrieked, batting it away.

“You’re not fighting, so that doesn’t matter!” lectured the dead seagull, “Stop overthinking things! Be glad with what good you have!”

She snorted, and Ondyne lowered the seagull from her face. “Hey, I see a smile!” 

Merag crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a little kid.”

“It worked, so say whatever you want! And I’ll believe that when you hit your teens” Ondyne sang, tossing the seagull in the air, and Merag rolled her eyes. 

“Ondyne!” came a gruff shout. In strode Blackray, heavy on the floorboards. Flecks of blood smeared his purple and orange armor, and his fingers were blackened with sword oil. “You had better not walk out with that smile.”

Ondyne waved the dead seagull his way. “If it isn’t Blackray. Someone’s in a good mood. I guess you won the competition with Harpyia?”

“Of course I did! Five to four.”

“Hah! R’lyeh must be fuming.”

Blackray stood straight and proud. “They’ll have no choice but to listen to every demand we give.”

Merag reached up to pat Blackray’s shoulder, but could only reach his side at most. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, I guess your warmongering comes in handy sometimes,” Ondyne snapped, and Blackray’s expression turned sour. 

“You should show me some respect.”

“I’ll show you more respect when Despoine does more than just manufacture metal goods and members of the clergy. In fact, you should be the one respecting _me_!”

“Says the girl with a seagull.”

Merag chuckled. Her heart was a melted icicle, but their banter was solidifying her, little by little.  “You’re much more soft spoken in political meetings, Sylphie.”

“Well, I’m not speaking as a duchess now, am I? I can turn off those awful filters and be myself.”

The chatter came to a strangled halt the moment Harpyia walked in. Her makeup was perfectly in place and tiny flowers cascaded off her hat and nestled in her hair. Her dress was made of ruffles and feathers, and her nails were as red as the bloodied sea. 

“What are you wearing?” Ondyne gaped, pinching Harpyia’s dress. “Did you actually have that sent all the way out here?”

Harpyia merely flicked her fan, knocking the seagull out of Ondyne’s hand. “I had it stored in my personal quarters on my ship. We had to win, so there was bound to be a talk like this sooner or later. The rest of you just aren’t prepared.” 

Ondyne snorted, but Blackray seemed preoccupied with the visible dents and scrapes on his armor. “Don’t bother,” she grumbled back at him, “You look terrible in a formal clothing. Battle armor’s much better for a warmonger like you.”

Blackray flicked Ondyne on her forehead, but Merag ignored it all, lost in thought. Harpyia glittered like morning frost, and she was so dull in comparison to her duchess. “Harpyia.” She sucked in a deep breath, “Can you lend me some jewelry?”

Harpyia was mercifully quiet as she looked Merag up and down. Slowly and delicately, she unclasped the diamond necklace from her neck and placed it gingerly around Merag’s. 

The links slid roughly against her skin, and the diamonds hardened her heart. She wasn’t miserably melting any more. She was a glacier that put the diamonds around her neck to shame.“Sylphie,” Merag said, catching the duchess’ attention, “Don’t hold back.”

“Are you _sure_ , Merag? I’m really not nice to warmongers.”

“Positive.”

Ondyne’s smile stretched her cheeks thin, and Blackray shot her a withering a look.

“All right,” Merag said, “Let’s go end this awful war.”

She strode into the sun.

The sky blazed a bright blue, unmarred by even a single cloud. The mist had vanished with the battle, and the sun was fierce overhead. Shielding her eyes wasn’t an option. She’d be weak in an instant if she did so. 

They weren’t alone. R’lyehian soldiers had climbed onto every possible vantage point to watch the proceedings. Huddled together and crowding the deck made them look like regular men instead of the soldiers she’d fought on the seas. 

The gap between her and the enemy was shrinking fast. 

“Who is that?” Merag whispered, tilting her head at the woman standing between the admirals. She was too demure to be part of the military, and too regal to be a soldier. Her white dress looked out of place between the blood red capes of her generals. 

“Lord Asteron’s wife, the empress Ilene. Prince Vector’s mother.” Lord Blackray whispered back. “Better for us to get the person who knows the least about battle.”

“But she’s from R’lyeh!”

“Married into the family. Doesn’t share her husband’s zeal for war. Much softer. Too soft.”

Lord Asteron’s wife was a willowy figure. Even the jewelry she wore failed to add any color to her cheeks, so she dusted her eyelids with lilac and tinged her lips scarlet. She greeted them with a smile far too gentle for a R’lyehian empress. 

Merag responded with a stiff bow. So this is where the crown prince got his fragility from. Well, that was better for her, Merag thought. Ceasing the war would be much easier with a soft person at the head. 

Both rulers motioned to their admirals, and everyone took their seats. The table between them was polished to a shine and two men had room to stand guard on the edges, but it didn’t seem nearly wide enough. 

Merag was the smallest, and had to crane her neck to look up at the shortest of the admirals. Her palms were sweaty, and the deck seemed stuffy even in the open air. 

“Good day, Lady Merag.” Lady Ilene’s voice was sweet and serene. “How are you today?”

The question caught her so off guard, she had to breathe in her surprise. “Quite well.”

“I’m glad. Now, shall we begin?”

“Yes, lets.”

Ondyne lounged on her palm, twirling her loose dark blue waves into tight springs. “Your husband must be in a good mood to have agreed to this.”

“The timing was poor for all of us.”

“I’m sure! Prince Vector must appreciate seeing his father after all this time.”

It was several moments before Lady Ilene answered. “R’lyeh has lost plenty of good men. Let’s not continue the trend.” She sat up, firm and unyielding as she announced, “As the Empress of the Divine Empire of R’lyeh, acting on behalf of the absent Emperor Asteron, I hereby accept the offer for open discussion by Queen Merag of Telos.”

Merag’s spine tightened. “And of course,” she replied, her voice cool and even, “this means that all battles will cease, and this war will officially come to an end. All R’lyehian ships are to withdraw from the neutral waters of the border.”

Merag couldn’t tell whether the empress’ eyes were lit by concern or pleasure. “I’m afraid I can’t accept those terms the way they are now.”

“If there’s no restrictions on the borderlands, then this could just happen again in a year,” Blackray grumbled. 

“If I agreed, then patrolling the border from our side would be impossible. That’s too much of a liability.”

Merag pursed her lips and cast a stray glance at Harpyia. The duchess’ eyes were thin, but she wasn’t frowning yet. She breathed a small sigh of relief and turned back to the empress and her admirals. “How about this, then? The only ships allowed by the border are patrol ships. No R’lyehian vessel can cross into our territory without automatically declaring an act of war. An exception would be trade ships, documented and approved of by both sides.”

“That sounds more than reasonable,” said one of the R’lyehian admirals. “As long as Telos does the same.”

“It’s no longer just Telos,” Merag said, her voice swelling in her throat. “Telos, Arion, Rhode, and Despoine have joined together. We are now the United Lands of the Poseidon Ocean.”

The admirals muttered to each other, but Lady Ilene only allowed herself a small blink before regaining her calm smile. “And you are its new queen, Lady Merag?”

“I am.”

“I see. That explains your coordination on the battlefield. I’m impressed.”

“You took that surprisingly well,” Ondyne drawled. “No cursing us out or giving us ugly looks.” Her gaze trailed over the R’lyehian admirals, and they all fiercely glared back. 

Lady Ilene didn’t as much as flinch. “You mobilized very quickly. It’s admirable.”

“Huh. I wonder how many of your admirals agree with you.”

Blackray grimaced at Ondyne, but Merag said nothing. The enemy was tense and impatient.  

“Regardless,” Merag said with an intrusive cough, “We will follow the same rules as well. We also call for the immediate release of any prisoners of war on either side.”

“I shall send out the order the moment this conference finishes.”

“And I’ll order the release myself.”

“If you would.”

“Now, regarding war reparations-”

Lady Ilene held up a hand. “Are you declaring yourself the victor?”

Merag blinked in surprise. “No, of course I’m not.”

“Then that won’t be necessary.”

She balled her fists under the table. Deep breaths, deep breaths. “Why is that?”

“War reparations are only paid by the losing side,” one of the R’lyehian admirals spoke up, “R’lyeh didn’t win, but neither did Poseidon. Neither side has to pay anything.”

Merag’s lips tightened and Ondyne snorted by her side, but she didn’t protest. “I see. In that case, then shall we call a ceasefire between our two countries, empress?”

Lady Ilene smiled. “That sounds more than reasonable.”

If there was a flaw with the R’lyehians, it was their determination. If they ever saw a flaw in each other, it was kindness. Kindness ruins plans with the best intentions. Lady Ilene was kind, and in her pliable words there was an absolute certainty. For a moment, Merag thought it might have been easier to deal with the harsh emperor Asteron. 

“Now would you sign off on our agreement?”

“Sign?” Lady Ilene pursed her lips. “Is my word not enough?”

“Of course it is,” Harpyia spoke up, her gaze as cold as always, “ _Your_ word, that is. We need a little more proof that this will be a long-lasting ceasefire, and not something Lord Asteron can reverse on a whim.”

Lady Ilene chewed her cheek, but slowly nodded. She gestured to one of her attendants, and he quickly brought over a brush and a container of ink. “Very well. Shall I transcribe our agreement?”

Merag shook her head, and gestured back to her own attendants. “That won’t be necessary.” A bony girl hurried over and carefully laid out a piece of rolled up parchment on the meeting table. “We’ve been transcribing our debate the entire time. Please read it over, and if you find it satisfactory, then please sign off on it. If not, you are more than welcome to write up a revision, and our side will review it in turn.”

Lady Ilene took the paper with her slender fingers, and scanned it over. Her lips looked flat, but when Merag squinted, she thought she spotted a faint tease of a smile. She read every word, and finally swished her brush across the page. Her handwriting was elegant, making the stiffest of glyphs look gentle. All  the R’lyehian admirals signed it hard enough to bleed ink through the back. 

Merag felt ashamed of her signature beneath Lady Ilene’s lovely script. Nasch’s print was stalwart from his hours of transcribing scrolls. As the future queen of Telos, Merag had spent hours perfecting only her name on paper. Her new title pooled ink and was horribly slanted. She sighed at the sight. The moment she returned to Telos, she was working on her penmanship. 

Once Blackray’s blocky print finished off the document, Lady Ilene stood and her admirals followed suit. “Now, this dreadful war is over.”

“At this rate you’ll be writing up a peace bargain next time we all meet,” Ondyne blew once on the document before rolling it up so tight it was no wider than a brush. 

Lady Ilene only smiled. “And Lady Merag?”

Merag had stood with one foot back towards her ship, but she gracefully turned back around. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s a war. People die on both sides.”

Lady Ilene shook her head. “I meant your parents.”

Merag’s throat tightened. 

“I wish we could have concluded something before they died. Your parents seemed like good people, and Poseidon is a lovely place.”

“With all due respect, Lady Ilene, my parents can no longer make decisions for me. And I’m not interested in marrying your son.”

“That’s a shame. Well, there’s always other possible ventures for peace. I hope we can reach an agreement at a later time. Have a safe trip back.” She inclined her head in an elegant curve before turning her back. 

Merag walked back in silence, keeping her gaze away from the sun. 

Her cabin was more dim than she remembered. The darkness beat at the slivers of sunlight and covered the room in heavy veils. She didn’t speak for a long time, and blindly focused on the flickering candlelight. There was chatter all around her, Ondyne speaking rapidly about something, but she was hardly paying any attention.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. 

Merag glanced towards Harpyia. The duchess looked discontent behind her blue powdered lids, but she hid her frown behind her fan. Their eyes connected, and Harpyia tapped her fan lightly on Merag’s shoulder. “Good work. It’s always helpful to let Ondyne talk a lot.”

“It is _not_!” Blackray insisted, shooting Ondyne a harsh glare. “She’s irresponsible and rude!”

Harpyia scoffed. “You’re certainly a gift, Blackray.”

Blackray’s cheeks were dusted with with red, but with a huff, his irritation was gone. “Harpyia, you were too quiet,” he quietly said, “Did something happen?”

“Did something happen?” Harpyia muttered, clicking her fan shut with a swish of her wrist. “I wonder.”

Merag and Harpyia exchanged glances. “Are we thinking the same thing?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, my queen.”

The more she entertained the thought, the more her chest felt like an anchor. Merag took a deep breath. “I think-- Lady Ilene was telling the truth.”

Ondyne frowned. “No way! It’s a typical R’lyehian bluff. If they act innocent enough, we’ll have no choice but to believe them. It’s a cheap lie!”

“She was too sincere, Sylphie.”

Even Merag was surprised when Ondyne started coughing violently. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse as she sputtered out, “I’m sorry Merag, I can’t make it today. I’ve got an awful headache and I think I’m catching a cold. I promise to make it up to you, okay?” She was back to normal in less than a second. “See? Didn’t I sound convincing? It’s easy to change your voice and sound sincere.”

Harpyia pursed her lips. “I have to agree with Lady Merag.”

“You’re kidding,” Ondyne crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Are you both trying to say the empress of her own empire doesn’t even know what really happened?”

“ _We_ don’t even know what really happened,” Blackray added in, “It seems she can’t know something she wasn’t responsible for.”

“It was obviously an assassination.”

“Except we don’t have any proof. It’s an impossible crime.”

“So is Lord Asteron innocent as well? He wanted to kill Merag’s parents for a really long time!” 

Harpiya rolled her eyes, “Lord Asteron’s horrible at lying, and Lady Ilene doesn’t seem to know anything. An assassination requires manpower and a chain of command. There are people to do the killing, rowers to row the ships, blacksmiths to forge extra weapons. Someone would have slipped by now if they were really behind it. Until something comes up otherwise, it was just a tragedy. Unless you witnessed something else to say otherwise, Ondyne?”

Ondyne grumbled and waved dismissively. 

“I can’t believe that it was just… bad weather.” Merag paused, and thumped her back against her chair. She wanted to laugh, but she felt nauseous and claustrophobic at the same time. “I think… I liked it much better when I had someone to blame.”


	5. Mottoes of Childhood

Someone was pounding at her door. 

Merag had half a mind to throw her pillow, but then she’d actually have to get up.

The knocking persisted. It was too urgent to just be a servant, and definitely not a dream. She scrambled out of bed, and threw her makeup onto her dresser. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, and her hair was a tangled mess. 

“Hang on!” Not enough time for her eyes and lips, but she could at least concealed her blemishes under some foundation. Her eyes darted from her closet to her mirror. A teal blue outfit with a red necklace? No time to arm herself in long dresses and jewels. Her nightgown would have to do for now- 

“It’s Earo, my lady,” came the voice from beyond the door. 

She fell back on her bed and curled up under the blankets. “Come in,” she grumbled. No doubt he was delivering another piece of pointless news again.  

Even though he was the captain of the royal guard, Earo refused to wear a helmet, and always ruined his orange and white comb-back by snagging his hair on the hanging beads in her doorway. She had to hold back her laughter as he struggled yet again.

 “Sometimes I think you set these up on purpose,” he sighed, batting one of the strings back and standing at attention. “But my lady, there’s been an incident at the one of the bridges. A young boy ran his horse into the construction.”

“What kind of idiot runs their horse into a bridge?”

“I don’t know. Work was set back by at least a week. He fled the scene, and we’re out looking for him.”

Beneath the covers, Merag groaned. She had prayed for her first infrastructure project to go smoothly. She’d reigned for a year, but what kind of queen would she be if she couldn’t organize one simple project? Last month, she had finalized her plans to interconnect the islands with bridges, and construction was progressing smoothly- well, had been.

“There’s more.” There was always more. He drew a deep breath. “The horse seemed normal but it had— wings!”

She threw the covers off.

“I’m telling the truth, my lady, there were definitely wings. It _killed_ one of my machines in the collision. Hours of work, wasted…” Earo grumbled, turning away in disgust.

She laced her hands together in her lap. A missionary from the northeast kingdoms? She’d heard of feathered serpents far to the north, but never a winged horse! A spy from R’lyeh? Their recent conquest of islands bordering their empire had her on edge. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear if they’d sent a missionary from one of their new territories to slip past her guard. 

Nasch-- Nasch would have sensed if anything unusual had approached the kingdom. She had to see her brother, fast. 

“Keep searching,” she ordered, throwing on the dress closest to her. “I need some fresh air.”

“You really shouldn’t leave the palace,” Earo said, turning away out of politeness.

She gave him a withering look and walked right past him. 

The boat ride to Abyss’ temple was long and tiring. Why couldn’t Nasch have stayed in the palace archives instead of by the sacred pools? When she saw the temple’s orderly sea-worn stones jutting out of the sea, she knew she was getting close. A pressure always hung in the air around the temple, and if she closed her eyes, she felt like she was drowning. 

Nasch’s vision stretched across the entire sea. He’d be able to quickly tell her if this stranger and his winged horse was a threat.

The air inside the temple was staggeringly humid. Ornately framed mirrors lay propped up in every corner, anchored in place by smooth sea stones. They angled around the bumps and crevices on every wall, and ghostly figures drifted briefly across their surfaces. In these cavernous mirrored halls, infinite reflections walked along with her. Such tantalizing imitations. 

A flash of white fluttered out of the corner of her eye. Her heart leapt into her throat and she whirled around, but it was only a priest bowing his head to her. 

“My queen, we weren’t expecting a visit.”

She put on a sparkling smile, and tried not to let her voice catch in her throat. “I’m here to see Nasch.”

“The high priest is deep in meditation speaking with the Gods. He will be free in an hour or so.”

If only she could afford an hour. “Nasch!” Her voice echoed off the walls. “You’re not going to keep me standing here, are you?”

She didn’t have to wait very long before the golden circlet and heavy veils of the high priest glided into view. “Merag?” Nasch’s hands were dripping; he must have been at the holy pools. “What are you doing here? I thought the guard said you weren’t allowed to leave the-”

“Never mind the guard.” She snagged him by his arm and dragged him aside. 

He protested, but didn’t try to break free. “Listen, if you’re mad about your silver bangle, it was an accident.”

She screeched to a halt. “My _what_?”

Nasch chewed his lips. “I said it was an accident.”

Oh, she was going to give him the harshest sermon of _his life_ \- “Never mind all that. Don’t look so relieved, either. Listen, Earo spotted a boy on a flying horse.”

“A flying horse.” Nasch’s voice was thin and tired. “Since when do horses fly?”

“I don’t know, but he wouldn’t lie about this kind of thing. Come on, we have to go back to the palace.”

“Merag, come on,” he groaned, but she was already pulling him out the exit and into the blinding sun. For a moment, all she could see was pink and white, but the dock soon fizzled back into view.

They weren’t alone.

A boy sat on the dock with his back to them, trying to scrub his dinged armor with seawater. He had silver in his hair and pale, pale skin. 

Nasch threw his arms around her, shielding her with his body, and drew his dagger. “Who are you?” he shouted, and the stranger nearly fell off the docks in surprise. 

Nasch screamed, “Back, back,” and stabbed his blade forward. Drawn by the commotion, the priests grabbed their weapons and surrounded the boy on all sides. 

Her vision was blocked by Nasch’s body, but she could see the boy’s legs shaking. His fingers were pale and smeared with dirt. His back slumped, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He had his sword in his hand but didn’t dare attack. There was nothing more dangerous than someone armed and frightened. 

The stranger glanced hurriedly at the blades pointing at him, and threw down his sword. Nasch paused, but the priests still inched forward. Still trembling, the boy dropped to his knees and turned his palms up. He couldn’t reach for anything like that, much less swing a blade. 

Surrender. 

“Stop!” Nasch yelled, and all the priests froze. 

The boy didn’t go for his weapon and kept his head bowed. 

Merag frowned. This was too simple of a surrender, even for an intruder. “Bring him back to the castle. I want to question him.”

—

They’d found the boy, but there hadn’t been a horse on the temple grounds, much less a horse with wings. 

“What are we going to do with him?” Nasch asked. He cast a short glance into the guest room and at the boy sitting on the bed. He was wildly exploring the room with his eyes, but kept his hands clasped together in his lap. He glanced back at the pillows and his curiosity turned to desperation, and he had to tear his gaze away. “I thought we were going to throw him in the cells, not give him his own room.”

“He’s unarmed,” she assured him. “The Guard inspected him before he entered the castle. But I still don’t know why you didn’t want guards by the window.”

“If a horse with wings comes, don’t you want to see it?”

She couldn’t help but agree to that. “Harpyia and Cesare aren’t going to be back for some time. We can’t directly communicate until they return. How are we going to talk with him?”

Nasch shrugged. “Gestures? It’s not like we can write out what we’re saying, either.”

“Well, we’ll try.”

The boy opened his mouth and stood when they entered, but all it took was one glare from Merag to make him sit again. 

“Merag,” she pointed to herself, and gestured to the room. “Mine.”

He blinked dumbly, but a glimmer caught his eye. He said something that sounded complimentary, but she hadn’t the slightest clue what it meant.

“Let me try.” Nasch plopped down next to the boy, but kept his gaze firmly trained on him. “What’s your name?” The boy responded with a blank stare, and Nasch rolled his eyes. “Nasch,” he said, pointing to himself. He pointed at the boy, and waited.

It took a moment before the boy responded, “Durbe.” 

“Your home,” Nasch said. He lead the boy to the window and flung open the curtains. Here they could see all of Poseidon, dotted with sectioned houses and patches of green. “Home.”

Something dulled the boy’s smile as he pointed east across the sea. 

Merag’s flesh ran cold. “R’lyeh?” she gasped, but the boy didn’t as much as flinch at the name. 

“I don’t think so,” Nasch said. “He doesn’t look R’lyehian. The clothes look all wrong, don’t they? They don’t wear such high collars.”

He had a point. This boy was a strange one, but he didn’t seem dangerous. “Earo’s going to fetch all the paperwork for repairs,” she grumbled. “Nasch, why don’t you watch over this boy for a while?”

Nasch’s eyes widened. “But I’m going back to the temples.” 

“Perfect!” Merag put on her sweetest smile and shoved Durbe towards her brother. They stumbled into each other, but Durbe quickly jumped away. “I was just thinking that you shouldn’t go back by yourself. Why don’t you try using your charm on him to get him to talk some more along the way?”

“Charm-!” Nasch looked wearily at the boy by his side. 

Durbe still glimmered with energy. He cast a cursory glance at his sword in Merag’s hand, but she shook her head. He slowly nodded and clasped his hands together behind his back. Not bad, Merag thought. At least he knows he’s a prisoner, not a guest. 

Strange clothing she’d never seen before. A flying horse that might or might not exist. Nasch would be fine on his own, but she needed some fresh air. She stole a glance back at the joined shadows of her brother and Durbe and kept her lips tight. 

She’d just be a moment, she could steal that much.

Not even a minute had gone by before Nasch’s yell hit her ears.

No time for breaks. She dashed back into the room, her hand on the stranger’s sword.

Nasch was on the floor, and Durbe was eagerly petting the nose of a pure white horse. Its wings were beams of sunlight, and more majestic than anything she’d ever seen. It whinnied happily as Durbe ran his hands over its muzzle. If the stranger’s sword handle hadn’t been so cold, she just might have fallen down herself. 

Merag was at Nasch’s side in an instant, and he inched closer to her. “He just threw open the windows,” he stammered, “It came flying in. It _flew_!”

With a scowl, she brandished her sword at the horse. This foreign blade was much heavier than she was used to, but Nasch was too stunned to fight, and there was no way she was going to let that _thing_ hurt her brother. 

The horse let out a frightened whiney, and Durbe rushed to calm it down. “Makha. Nasch. Merag.” He spoke directly to the horse, and his words were unmistakably gentle. 

There was a mile between her and her body. If she spoke, it echoed in her head, and everything felt so far away. She just wanted to lunge forward screaming back into her limbs and back and head but no, no, she wanted to curl up and scream, _there can’t be horses with wings, there aren’t any, there aren’t, there aren’t-_

Nasch stood up.

He walked closer, and his fingers ghosted the dagger that lay at his hip. The horse grunted, but the moment her brother approached, it bowed its head. Nasch stopped, and dropped his hands to his sides. 

“Nasch?” she asked, her mind and body smashed together again. She tried to rise to her feet, but heels felt like iron weights. 

He turned to her, motioning to the horse. “R’lyeh smells of iron and blood. This one is… lighter. Purer.” He reached out a hand, and the horse met it gently. 

She looked to Durbe, gaping in the silence. His eyes were wide, but his smile returned even wider than before. The melodic words that escaped his mouth made the horse perk up. 

“Merag.” Her brother was looking back at her, with that reassuring gaze. “It’s all right.”

No way. She wasn’t going near a horse _with wings_. She sucked in a deep breath and forced her legs forward. It was only a horse. Just a horse with bird’s wings. Wings or not, it still felt normal. She could feel its pulse under her hand, and forced a grin. 

The horse finally relaxed and lifted up its wings. Dried blood matted his coat, and the skin beneath his wings was still raw, like a mouth gaping open. 

Durbe caught her gaze, and his expression softened. 

She pulled back. “Well, I need to tell the guard we found the horse. I’ll be back. Don’t move.” She had never walked out of a room so fast before.

She filled her lungs again and again to overturn the sound of her beating heart. The royal guard now positioned outside the door looked expectantly at her, but didn’t dare charge in without her say. “It’s fine,” she told Earo. “Don’t worry about it.”

Earo didn’t loosen his grip on his bow. “The boy’s safe?”

“He’s not dangerous. The boy or the horse. The horse is injured, fetch some supplies. Inform the rest of the guard, and send word to Harpyia and Cesare to come back as soon as possible.” She spotted black lace down the hall, and her mouth clamped shut. “Never mind on the last one. I’ll take it from here.”

It was impossible to not notice Harpyia’s arrival. She wore short sleeved gown with a train made of beaded lace, and Merag could just feel her duchess’ displeasure rolling off in cold waves. “So,” Harpyia swished her fan open. “Let’s see this stranger.” 

Durbe caught one sight of Harpyia and quickly fumbled onto one knee in an awkward bow. Merag blinked, and exchanged glances with Harpyia. “He thinks I’m the queen. Cute.” She elegantly bowed her head to Merag, and it took Durbe’s face flushed with embarrassment. 

Merag crossed her arms and frowned. How dare he think otherwise? She was the queen, not Harpyia…

Harpyia laughed, and Durbe shrunk back. “This is why it’s fun to have foreigners around. They know absolutely nothing, and they’re so honest. You never know what to expect from them.”

“In that case, it’s no wonder he’s afraid of you!” The harsh voice was accompanied by a man stomping into the room. His entrance was almost as dramatic as Harpyia’s- like brother, like sister. 

According to Blackray, Cesare and Harpyia looked similar when they were young, but while Harpyia had grown to be slim and beautiful, her brother kept his plain face. As usual Cesare was covered in an obscene amount of gold. It encircled his neck, rested on every finger, and was piled atop his belt. If Merag wasn’t far too used to the sight of Harpyia in her sweeping gowns, she just might have been dazzled enough to ignore the bulge around Cesare’s waist. Years of hiking and climbing mountains hadn’t done much to shrink his stomach, Merag thought.

Harpyia cast a withering look at her brother and handed him a comb.

“Don’t bother. It springs right back,” Cesare grumbled, gesturing to his purple hair that flared up in every direction. 

“I’m surprised Harpyia lets you get away with talking like that,” Merag laughed, only half joking. 

“‘Getting away’ is pushing it. She sends me away all the time. She can send _anyone_ away. Two husbands and she broke them both- the Gods know I’m just another pawn to her.”

Harpyia just waved her fan at him. “You worry too much.”

“Worry!” Cesare snorted. “If anything, I’m grateful for your constant playing. I’ve seen islands and sights you couldn’t even dream of, and I’d never have stepped outside of Poseidon if you didn’t throw me out all the time.”

“Indeed. Shame you don’t have a system to mobilize all that knowledge- if you did, you might even beat me.”

Cesare bristled, but didn’t reply.

Harpyia smiled at her brother, but it was thin and cold. “Forgive him, my lady. Sometimes my brother forgets who’s actually in power. Gold doesn’t buy security. Information does.”

“And that’s about the only thing we have in common. Now, is that the boy?” Cesare peered down his nose at Durbe, who scooted back until his back was pressed against the bedframe. Cesare quickly switched languages and the boy perked up. They all sounded the same at first, but when Merag craned her ear, they all danced differently. Finally, Cesare settled on something melodic, and the boy eagerly responded. 

“Boy’s from far east, even further than you’d think. Past R’lyeh and then some. There’s a huge island with mountain ranges and dense jungles, and that’s where he’s from.” The boy spoke again, and Cesare dully nodded. “He said he didn’t mean to scare anyone- Makha was just tired. What’s a Makha?”

“His winged horse.” Nasch piped up from the side.

“Horses don’t have wings!”

“Tell that to the horse.”

“What horse?” 

Makha whinnied, but all Cesare did the moment he saw its wings was raise an eyebrow. “Regardless,”  he said waving the horse away almost too casually, “I told him that he’s in the presence of the queen and the high priest, but he said he figured that out already.”

“Nasch,” the boy said, staring at Nasch. “Merag,” he added, but didn’t tear his eyes away from her brother.

Harpyia smiled behind her fan. “Smart boy.” She reached for the boy’s sword, turned it over a few times in her long fingers and held it out. “Who is your king?”

He understood and spoke a name, but Merag didn’t recognize it.

Cesare snapped his fingers and nodded to himself. “I knew I recognized those clothes. He’s a ‘squire’, a service boy to a ‘knight’.”

“What’s a knight? Some kind of priest?” Merag asked.

“A warrior that wears too much armor.”

At the sound of the word knight, the boy’s eyes twinkled like sunlight. He said the word with all the power he could muster, and pressed his hand to his heart. 

“A squire does a lot of the annoying work that his knight doesn’t want to do. Although why this one’s knight is nowhere in sight,” Cesare trailed off, and Durbe refused to meet his gaze. “He must have run away. Very dishonorable in that country”

“Looks like he still wants to be a knight,” Nasch piped up. He had almost finished bandaging Makha, and his white robes were stained with blood.

Cesare asked Durbe something, and the boy guiltily looked away. “See? No mission. No lord watching nearby, either.”

Harpyia ran her nails down the horse’s mane, and it shivered at her touch. “Well, my lady? This boy was responsible for one of your bridges falling. What do you plan to do with him? Fine him? Execute him?”

Merag pursed her lips. Even if she told Durbe to leave, there was no way his horse could fly any more than a day, much less past R’lyeh. Durbe looked at her unflinchingly, but his hands were trembling. He stammered something out, and tried to hide the tears in his eyes. 

“He says he begs your hospitality for him to stay until his freakish horse is better, or something.”

“Translate properly,” Harpyia growled, but Cesare just shrugged.

“He can stay,” she declared, “At least until Makha is healed. And he’s working until he leaves.”

Durbe didn’t understand what she said, but he recognized the gravity of her words and fell back in relief. 

“I trust you’ll keep this boy and,” Harpyia glanced at the horse, “this being out of trouble.”

“We don’t need him breaking any more bridges,” Cesare grumbled. “Come on, Reort. We’re leaving.” When Nasch gaped at him, Cesare just snorted. “You don’t honestly think- with all due respect, my lord- that I’m babysitting some kid for months? I have an expedition in three days, and I’m not staying around here.”

“Incredible,” Nasch crossed his arms. “It’s so hard to rely on you.”

The boy just sat there awkwardly smiling, and Merag could only sigh.

\--

For the next few months, Durbe was Nasch’s bright shadow. Even when Nasch was deep inside the temples, Makha and Durbe were always spotted lounging on the temple docks. When he wasn’t following Nasch, Durbe was spotted offering his help in the marketplace and drinking even some of her seasoned soldiers under the table. He was no older than fifteen, and could already drink a bar dry. 

He’d picked up a few words drifting from favor to favor in the marketplace, and his strange melody started to solidify into words. His speech was still broken, and sometimes he’d revert back into his native tongue when the guards would tease him, but he was still picking up the language much faster than she expected.

One day, he approached Nasch with a great big grin and said, “my brother.”

Nasch sighed and shook his head. He pointed between himself and Merag, said “brother”, when pointing to himself, and Durbe’s face fell. He gestured between himself and Durbe and said, “friend.”

Durbe rolled the word in his mouth, and it sounded so strange in that melodic tinge of his. “Friend. My friend.” 

Nasch grumbled and fought to keep a blush off his face. 

With Durbe came all sorts of change. Nasch was spending more time in the castle. She was more than happy to see her brother without lengthy trips, but she saw the way he looked at Durbe; intrigued, fascinated, like he was a shining star in the sky. 

When she caught Durbe kissing Nasch on the cheek deep in the palace archives, she wasn’t exactly surprised. 

Nasch hunted her down not even a minute later. “Merag,” he whispered, his veils a mess and his cheeks still red. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t, but it wasn’t exactly out of the blue…”

“Not that! No it’s just— nobody else can know.”

“I won’t tell any of the priests, don’t worry. Just because you were never great at communicating with Abyss—“

Nasch crossed his arms and sulked. “I communicate just fine with him. He just doesn’t say anything substantial. Ever. It’s like he enjoys being vague.”

The temple’s affairs were always beyond her, and even though she’d heard a thousand times how Abyss’ spirit lived in her brother, she never really believed it. 

“If anyone finds out, who knows what they’d say? I just can’t-” He chomped on his lips and she could feel him shaking. “The last high priest said I was the reincarnation of Abyss, right? So isn’t every moment of my life a considered being devoted to him? But you’re the queen, but you still threw away your marriage proposals!” Nasch banged his fist on the table, and the small mirror balanced on the edge crashed to the floor. “Why is it my fate to be tied down when I’m the one priest that could have freedom? I’m the prince, so the clergy can’t just order me around, but how come I have to keep it a secret? It’s not fair!”

He saw her concern and quickly apologized.

“It’s all right,” she said, shushing him. “Just focus on balancing Durbe and your duties. And tell Durbe to visit Makha. I don’t want him to panic in the storm.”

Nasch blinked. “What storm?”

“The waves have been rough for hours. Abyss didn’t tell you?”

“No, he didn’t…” He struggled to keep a straight face. “Hopefully it will be a brief one.”

It was brief, and incredibly violent. All four islands were flooded, and the storm winds tore up trees and flung them far inland. She had ran outside in the rain and came in seconds later drenched. When the skies cleared and it was safe for everyone to leave their homes, the people lined up for hours to consult with her. 

She’d already seen thirty other people that day before a tattered farmer knelt at her throne. “Lady Merag, my queen. The storm has flooded the fields. We fear the crops will be ruined.”

“I’m sorry for your plight.” He wasn’t the first to say that. She’d have to talk to Ondyne about arranging for more food imports, and fast. “But fear not, you shall have food, even if your crops fail.”

The man bowed his head in thanks. “Your generosity knows no bounds. But if I may— lord high priest? Might I ask you a question?”

Walking up to Merag’s side, Nasch gave the man a nod. “You may speak.”

“Why did the storm hit us so badly?”

“The Gods are not always merciful. Abyss’ realm is storms, and he causes them as much as he wards them away.”

“Yes but- why was this one so horrible? Surely we haven’t angered the Gods! Have you received anything in your prayers?” 

Nasch squeezed his fingers tightly against his palm. “Abyss didn’t say anything. We’ve been without storms for years now, it’s not unusual for him to create one after all this time.”

The man nodded, but his lips were stretched thin. Even as he bowed and left, Nasch still frowned.

“Nasch-” she started, but he just shook his head. When she touched his shoulder, he pulled away and stalked out of the room. She gave Earo one look to close council before chasing after him. 

She found him sitting on the terrace by his room, with his eyes firmly fixed on the sea. She plopped down by his side, and he looked at her, but said nothing. They sat in silence for a long while and let the sea breeze tease their clothes. 

“Maybe I haven’t been doing enough,” Nasch finally said. “Maybe I have been neglecting Abyss a bit.”

“Because of Durbe.”

He smiled weakly. “If Abyss has any requests, he usually just speaks to me directly. It doesn’t matter where I am. He didn’t seem particularly upset. Maybe he’s just brooding. Maybe he never— approved of Durbe in the first place?” He dropped his eyes to his hands, and just saying it seemed to pain him.

“What about Crystal Zero?”

“I can’t hear her very well. Trying to hear her is like being underwater and listening to someone talk on land.”

“Maybe you should just ask Abyss.”

The door creaked, and Durbe peeked his head in. He took a deep breath and approached the two. There was a hesitant smile on his face, and he was drenched and muddy. His fingers were still red with rope burns, and a weariness weighed down his shoulders. 

“Durbe,” Nasch said, and forced a smile onto his face. 

That didn’t seem to fool Durbe, and he came rushing over. “Nasch,” he said, and Nasch took his hand into his own.

“We’re going to the temples,” Nasch said. “Come with us?”

Durbe didn’t understand all of what Nasch said, but he squeezed the priest’s hand tighter. “Of course.”

She could only smile softly at the two of them. “I’ll have Earo bring us a boat.”

“Makha,” Durbe said, and she just looked at him.

It was a tight squeeze, and Nasch had to press himself against Durbe to give Merag some room. They were still young and not yet all angles and curves, but they just managed to fit onto Makha’s back. Makha galloped effortlessly on the road of wind and carried them gently to the temples below. His side was still ridged with scarring, but in a few years it would be just a thin line. 

She’d never been so high in her life. Her breath was thin in her throat, and her hair felt cold.

Makha had flown them all the way there, but he couldn’t come in without knocking over the mirrors with his wings. Durbe patted his nose and the horse seemed to understand. He told Makha something in his native language, and the horse nodded before flying off. 

Nasch drifted like waves through the mirrored halls and didn’t falter at his reflection. He proceeded with his head bent and his back straight, and she tried to do the same. Abyss was tricky, and decorated his temple with a labyrinth of maze-like reflections. If she faltered for just a moment, the mirrors would dazzle her and she’d fall straight into the holy pools below. She wasn’t going to be devoured by Abyss, not now, not ever. 

The great god Abyss Splash swirled storms with a wave of his mighty staff. When he walked, waterfalls quaked and the sea trembled. His anger caused floods and blanketed the sky with ashy clouds. Both merciful and cruel, he was their God and her brother’s confidant.

Touching bottom step had never brought her such relief. Nasch’s white robes trailed behind him like sea foam he picked up a long, shallow basin with a golden knife resting inside. He took his veils off, dipped his foot into one of the divine pools that encroached on the walls, and shivered. Without warning, he sucked in a deep breath and dove in. Durbe stepped forward, but she grabbed his shoulder and shook her head. He seemed to calm down, but he always glanced back at the pool where Nasch had vanished into. 

He wasn’t alone with his frantic thoughts. Nasch would be fine. Abyss would protect him, but her breath was still stuck in her throat. She had to say something, or else her beating heart would split her ribcage in two. “Durbe, how do you like it here?” When she received a blank stare, she rephrased. “Is Poseidon nice?”

Durbe’s brightened up a little. “Yes. Poseidon is very nice. Good people. Good water. Happy to be here.”

“What’s your home like?”

His smile faltered. “Hot. Big, tall trees. Sometimes the water is good. Sometimes the water is bad.”

With a splash, Nasch emerged and hauled himself onto the stone. Water was dripping from his thin tunic, and he wrung his train dry.  

She rushed forward to her brother, so relieved to see him alive and breathing and not stuck at the bottom of the ocean—

—His eyes were a bright, bright blue. Her smile fell. 

“What will come to pass will come to pass.” His voice was dull and toneless. “Without disaster, the might of the Gods would be forgotten. To be forgotten is to die. You are my sustenance, and so I will protect you in return. That is how it is, and how it always will be.”

The light faded from Nasch’s eyes, and his eyes returned to their normal dark blue. He sighed and squeezed the water from his hair. “And that’s that.”

That was her brother all right, but her heart was still pounding. “Nasch, what was-”

“Oh, that was Abyss,” he said, a little too casually to calm her. “He’ll be fine with another bloodletting. Then there shouldn’t be any storms for a while.” He uncoiled the bandages from his arms, and held his arms over the sacred pool. 

It was a common sight, but Merag still couldn’t help but flinch. Scars ran all along Nasch’s arm, thin currents washing across his skin. He reached into the basin, pulled the ornate dagger from its sheath, and raised the blade. 

Durbe moved before she could stop him. He lunged forward and grabbed Nasch’s hand, wrenching the dagger free. Nasch yelped and reached for it, but Durbe tossed it far away. 

The dagger fell into the pool with a splash. Nasch was seething, but kept all his curses bottled in his throat. 

Durbe shouted desperately in his home tongue, but neither of the siblings could understand a single word. He dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together as he cried out in what could only be a prayer. Blood seeped out between his palms where the dagger had nicked him in his struggle with Nasch, and it slowly trickled down into Abyss’ pool. 

The waters churned. The pool began to bubble and froth beat up against the edge. Durbe leapt back and threw himself in front of Nasch and Merag, but she could feel him shaking. Even Nasch was frozen in fear as the water raged and washed over their feet. What if Abyss dragged them all down? Gods above, she was too young to die!

Just as soon as the water turned violent, it stilled. 

Nasch mumbled something under his breath and gently lowered Durbe’s arm. He knelt by the pool and stared deep into its depths. “Abyss accepted Durbe’s blood. Said it’s special. And he told me not to slack off.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, but Durbe’s gaze was fixed on the pools. “My friends.” A nervous smile crept onto his face. “This was… my fault? Yes?”

Nasch whirled around. “No. It was my fault. Mine. Not yours.”

Durbe didn’t look convinced.

She forced a pleasant smile onto her face. It was so out of place, but seeing it calmed down Nasch a little. “Let’s go, you two,” she said, feigning confidence and trying not to think of how cold and wet her ankles were. 

They walked back up in silence. 

Makha was waiting for them with a large bag overflowing with supplies slung over his back. Food, several wineskins, and a change of clothes were packed tightly into ever crevice. 

Nasch saw it and grabbed Durbe’s arm. “No,” he said with a desperate urgency. 

Durbe shook his head. “Makha is better. Thanks to you. But I have to go home.”

“ _Stay_. Just for dinner.” Nasch’s grip was strong, and Durbe had to avert his gaze. 

She couldn’t help but frown too. She’d known this day would come of course, but hearing Durbe’s words and watching her brother’s face was something she couldn’t prepare herself for. Durbe had been slowly gathering supplies with the small earnings he’d gotten, but whenever she questioned him about them, he shoved them into a corner and said, “For later.”

Later was now, and her brother’s expression was crumbling fast.

Durbe pried Nasch’s fingers from his arm and held them between his hands. He kissed them once, and let them fall. 

“Goodbye, my friends,” he said, looking between Nasch and Merag. “Thank you so much. If we meet again-”

Nasch was too wound up, so she crossed her arms and scoffed. “ _If_?”

It took Durbe a moment before he started laughing. There were tears at the corners of his eyes, but he hastily wiped them away. “Next time. Of course!”

Her brother perked up at that, and managed to crack a smile.

Durbe mounted his horse and Makha galloped off the dock, taking off into the air. They watched the boy and his winged horse until they were nothing more than a speck blended into the clouds.

Nasch looked at his hands before fixing the veils on his head, and for a moment she remembered just how young he was. How young they were. “Back to work.” 

“Back to work.”

“Merag,” he said, and she couldn’t see his face through the heavy veils. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

She sighed and patted his back. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Let’s go, I’ll tell the cooks to make you steak tonight. Okay?”

He nodded, and she did most of the rowing on the way back.


	6. Descending Tempest

Nasch snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Merag, are you listening?” 

She instinctively nodded and glanced at the documents strewn across the table. A puddle of drool had gathered on one of the papers, and she patted it dry when her brother wasn’t looking. She couldn’t save some of the lines on it, but it looked reasonable from afar.

If only destroying words could erase events in real life.

The list of kingdoms recently conquered by R’lyeh was far longer than she expected, and had expanded the empire twofold. It had been eager to conquer when Emperor Asteron was still in power, but there had been a militaristic logic to their conquests back then. Now it indiscriminately swallowed up everything around it, from budding nations to generational empires. Poseidon’s border still remained untouched, but R’lyeh was creeping further and further west. 

It was only a matter of time until they clashed again.

She almost wished that the emperor and empress hadn’t died a few years back and left their son Vector in power. Preying on weaker kingdoms that can’t stand up to R’lyeh’s overpowering navy is just despicable. 

Nasch knocked a cold glass of water against her forehead. “Come on, you don’t want to talk aloud after a nap, do you?”

After a huff, she accepted the drink. “You’re up early today.”

“Had to get morning prayer out of the way.”

She pursed her lips. The condensation was cold against her palms as she said, “You didn’t sense anything at the borders, did you?”

“Nothing unusual. Still worried about R’lyeh?”

“I guess I am. Lord Vector’s on a rampage.” She shoved the papers away, but they rested gloomily in the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe our parents wanted me to marry him. You’re lucky you didn’t have to entertain him for a whole day. All he did was play with his rabbits and cry.”

“Now that sounds like a man going around conquering everything he sees. But didn’t you completely overwhelm him in a fight back then?”

“You wouldn’t have sobbed on my shoulder for half an hour.”

“That’s true. You would have been the one crying instead.”

Merag puffed up her cheeks and pouted, but she was silently grateful for their banter. Exchanging words like this had cooled her head a little. 

“If they come close, you’ll be the first to know. You know either I tell you or Harpyia does, whoever’s closer.” 

She forced a weak smile onto her face. “I know you will. And I hope so.”

“The only thing you should worry about now is that drool on your face. And move your legs, you have guests.”

She sprung up. “Who?”

Nasch had already drifted out the door, and she heard him call back, “Go and see!”

Merag tidied up and rushed down, careful not to trip over her dress. Greeting a guest with scrapes and bruises was such an unflattering thought.

Her guest was in the palace square, with a large woven basket hanging off his arm. His armor caught the sunlight, and his face lit up as she emerged. 

“Sir Durbe, it’s been a while.” 

He dipped into a customary bow. “Your royal highness.”

She crossed her arms at the formalities, but under the gaze of her advisors, he had no choice. 

Durbe had since grown into a handsome young man with a knighthood from his king and a fair amount of land to his name. Seven years felt like just a few days. 

He held out the basket with a smile. “Gifts, from my king.”

“Oh, how unexpected.” She graciously took it and looked inside. Sun-dried fruits and vegetables were laid out neatly beneath a cloth embroidered with Durbe’s country’s crest.  

Durbe nodded. “My king had heard many stories of Poseidon and wishes to establish peaceful relations. And perhaps in the future, open trade.”

“Sylphie will be thrilled. She loved those red fruits— tomatoes? This will make a wonderful get-well present.”

“Duchess Ondyne is ill?”

“Injured during a conference with R’lyeh. The doctors keep telling her to rest, but you know her.”

Durbe inclined his head. “Please send her my warmest regards.”

“I’ll be sure to pass them along. But in the meantime, come inside. We have much to discuss.”

They talked in one of the main rooms for a while, surrounded by her advisors all peppering Durbe with questions. Nasch joined them with a pitcher of wine, and they all drank until Merag shooed the topic away from politics. The moment the advisors were gone, and the guards stood alert outside the door, Durbe cast a smile at Nasch. His eyes shone with longing as he said, “Your eminence.”

“Really, Durbe? You should write more letters.”

“Ships from my country come so rarely to Poseidon. I would much rather see you in person.”

Nasch batted Durbe’s shoulder lightly, and the knight responded by wrapping her brother in a tight embrace. “My friend, how I’ve missed you.”

“Sentimental,” Nasch scoffed, but he hugged Durbe back. 

Her brother would never admit it aloud, but he relaxed so easily around Durbe. The knight was a flicker of light in the depths of the sea, and it warmed her heart to see Nasch so happy. She was more than glad for the distraction. 

The sun spun across the sky until the clouds started to flush pink. When Earo stepped in to say the nobles had arrived, that palpable anxiety itched at the back of her neck, and she so wished that small paradise with the three of them could have lasted a little longer.

Nasch let go of Durbe’s hand and gave her an encouraging look. “Hang in there. I’ll be around if you need me,” he whispered, and she weakly smiled back. Durbe offered her a good luck before Nasch led him away.

Earo escorted both Blackray and Harpyia in. Blackray ground his feet on the stone tile, and his jaw was tightly clenched. It looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days, and the shadows on his face from his frown lines made him look all the worse. 

The two of them were clad in their military attire, and while Blackray wore it like a second skin, Merag was so surprised to see Harpyia not adorned in lace and pearls. Her makeup was perfectly in place, but no amount of powder and color could disguise how her scowl narrowed her face. 

“It’s unusual to see you two together.”

Blackray cast a cursory glance at Harpyia. “Truly. But that is besides the point. There’s a problem. The R’lyehian fleet was last stocked for a military strike, enough supplies and weapons for a moderate siege. There’s not much left to the imagination.” 

“And you’re certain they were headed in our direction?”

“Positive. And I’ve lost communication from all of my spies in R’lyeh.” Harpyia spoke up. She was never a cheery person, but Merag had never seen her this solid before.

“The communication routes weren’t blocked off?”

“My reports are never late.”

“If the situation’s bad, it’s not unusual for spies to skip a message or two.”

“All of them? At once? Merag,” Harpyia firmly protested, “this is serious.”

Merag’s fingers strained against each other. “Have either of you notified the border patrol?”

“I sent out Cesare when we first called for the meeting.”

“All right. I’ll call a conference with Ondyne and you both tomorrow. Hopefully we can get this resolved without resorting to war.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed her own words, and it sent an icy chill running down her spine. 

Merag spent the evening wide awake, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. 

Every uneven ripple in the paint was a wave. The dreadful splash as an armored soldier hit the water. Splashing and struggling, only to be picked off by the enemy’s arrows. The glint of red moonlight through the stained glass was the cloak of the R’lyehian admiral she had driven her blade through. Her roots on her scalp ached when he grabbed her hair. She burrowed deeper into her blankets and felt Ondyne’s arms around her, protecting her from the blood and sea salt. Wooden ships burning brightly still clung to her nostrils.

 Nasch would tell her if anything was wrong, with his eyes on the wide sea, but what if he couldn’t get to her in time? Harpyia would try her hardest, with her thousands of spies on all corners of the world, but her duchess’ face looked so bony and cold when she delivered the news. 

She clutched her pillow and buried her head into the mattress. Stay away, Vector, and keep your troops with you. One war was enough.

Warm rains pattered against the window, each drop an arrow thumping just short of her. 

That night she didn’t sleep very well. 

From the moment she awoke, every thought was on R’lyeh. War screams and steel clashing flooded her mind with a horrible clarity. She’d tried drumming through the daily reports, but they were poor distractions. She threw a shawl over her nightgown and went straight to Nasch. Just a small confirmation that everything was normal could ease her thoughts, even a little. 

Her brother was already awake, with years of rising early for morning prayer having tamed his body clock. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the open window, at the oppressive storm clouds that had smothered the sky overnight. 

Durbe was at his side, playing with the ends of Nasch’s veil. His once thin body had grown full and was crossed with old wounds. 

Nasch turned to her and grumbled, “Of course you wouldn’t knock.”

“You had better tidy up before the guards come to report,” She chuckled. 

Durbe laughed sheepishly and started searching for his shirt. 

“Abyss said it was time for some rains,” Nasch sighed, and pointed towards the sky. “Horrible weather for invading. Any sane person would stay clear.”

“I didn’t even ask.”

He gave her a callous, knowing look and laughed. 

How far Nasch’s vision stretched and where it could burrow into was something she never figured it out. Otherworldly sense or not, Nasch never passed up on the opportunity to prod her with his observations. Revenge for all her unreasonable demands, he claimed. 

A thump jolted her out of her thoughts. In a lunge for his shirt, Durbe had hit his head on one of the shelves. “You don’t forget these,” Durbe held out three of Nasch’s golden bracelets, each adorned with star sapphires. 

Nasch leaned forward and collected them in his hands. “I have too many of these.”

Best to leave them alone for now. A nightgown was such an unsuitable dress for a queen, and she had to hurry back before anyone saw her. 

Something clattered to the floor. 

Nasch had fallen off the bed and was on his knees, clutching his head with his bracelets rolling around around him. His eyes darted all around the room, and he mouthed something she didn’t catch. 

“Nasch?” she asked, her voice distant in her ears.

He crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain. 

She was at his side in an instant, his hand in hers as she desperately called out his name. 

“Merag,” he choked out, “my head hurts…”

“Where’s the doctor? Someone get the doctor!” 

“I can’t see you… where are you? Merag? Durbe? There’s hissing in my head, get it out!”

Durbe dashed over, holding Nasch, supporting his neck and yelling his name out in a frenzy— Durbe. She lunged forward and grabbed her friend’s collar. “You know how to use magic, don’t you? What’s happening to my brother?”

Torn between panic and confusion, he looked weakly at her. “Magic?”

“Yes, magic! Makha, you have Makha! He’s a magical creature, isn’t he? Didn’t you tame him? Didn’t you summon him?”

“No! Yes, I found Makha, but I didn’t summon him! He lost his family and stumbled onto a patch of my lord’s land. If anything, he found me!” 

She dropped her hands away from him and they hung by her side like weights. Durbe, with his magical horse, couldn’t use magic himself. The only person with magic was the one suffering. 

The door slammed open and Cesare stormed in. Cesare- he knew all sorts of medicine from his travels. She had just glanced at him when he asked, “How long did this happen?”

“A minute- Cesare, what’s happening?”

“Merag…” Nasch gasped, reaching for her. “Someone’s hurting me… make it stop…”

“Your eminence, please save your energy.” Cesare’s words were stern but firm. He motioned for Durbe to move back and picked up Nasch in his arms. She darted after the count and her brother, half frantic with her head abuzz with thoughts. Worried voices, diagnoses, prayers all swirled together until she felt like going deaf. When Nasch finally fell into a deep sleep, his chest rising and falling with every short breath, she didn’t leave his side. 

The sky had turned black by the time Durbe was allowed into the room. 

He entered with worry on his face. “How is he?”

“I wish I knew,” she mumbled, her fingers tightening around her nightgown. Her head felt so heavy, she wouldn’t be surprised if her neck snapped. 

Durbe took a seat by the bedside and offered her a hand. His grasp was warm, and his eyes were large with compassion. 

“Have you eaten today?” 

She shook her head, and before she could protest, he placed a small platter of food onto her lap. “Don’t make me worry about two people.”

The tray felt like a lump of iron against her legs. She pressed her lips together, and reluctantly bit into an apple and shredded it until it was nothing but a core. 

“Captain Earo said to pass along that your dukes and duchesses have arrived.”

The food’s aroma became even less appetizing. Her gaze quickly dropped to Nasch, but Durbe just shook his head. 

“I’ll watch over him. Go to them, I’ll be right here when you get back.”

She smiled sadly and gave him her thanks, handing him the tray rising from her chair.

Something grabbed her hand, and she yelped.

Nasch was awake, with his eyes popped and red-rimmed. His breath was short in his throat, and he was shaking so much that her bones trembled too. 

Durbe knelt by her brother’s side and took his free hand. “Thank the Gods you’re all right.” 

Nasch’s expression didn’t soften. “Something’s coming.”

“What are you-?” Her brother’s grip tightened and her words died in her mouth.

“Something crossed the border. Call Blackray and tell him to mobilize the troops! Get all the ships ready, the soldiers, everything! Don’t just stand there! Hurry!”


	7. The Heretical Emperor

The remains of storm clouds littered the sky. It had poured for three days before the invaders arrived. Deep down, she'd hoped Abyss' storm would have been enough to deter them, but eighty black specks on the horizon said otherwise. 

When she fought R'lyeh out by the border, it was easy to imagine the war as a distant affair that didn’t dare intrude on her home. Now she could see the lines of ships approach from her bedroom window. There was no escape.

Those spearlike figureheads and coordinated formation was too familiar for comfort. A crimson banner with a bleached snake skull flew behind every ship, and just the sight made her lips twitch.

R'lyeh. Some things never change.

The moment the invaders had been within sight, the Poseidon army was dispatched to meet them. She watched it all from the top of the main gate of Telos. Even if she wasn't fighting, she wouldn't dare be a queen that stayed in her palace while her soldiers fought with all they had.

To survive a naval siege, both sides needed supplies, and any foreign force had to weigh down their ships with extra stock. Those huge vessels couldn't maneuver very easily, and her faster ships would crush them the moment they came close. All she had to do was sink a few, and they'd have no choice but to turn around or starve.

Chase them away. Those nauseating red sails were a stain on the sea.

Before her ships could even come close, three columns of water burst out from the sea, and out slithered something horrifying. Water trickled down off their enormous bodies, and their mouths hung open, as if they could never stop howling. They were disgusting to look at, with a mockery of a woman's body above a serpentine tail. A nest of snakes lay braided on their heads, and each one wriggled and hissed.

The sight smothered her breath.

One of her captains launched the signal to fire, and every archer on the water let loose a flurry of arrows.

Just one of those creatures had been hit with enough arrows to turn a man into shreds, but there wasn't even a scratch on their brown scales. The largest of the three let out a grating hiss, and their dual colored eyes burned brightly. Blue light rocketed across the sea, through the lanes of her ships, and towards her. Too fast to dodge.

Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her arms over her face. It was futile, but she didn't want to see her own demise. A chilly wave washed over her, as if she'd been thrown into a pile of snow. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and looked at her hands. All normal.  She was fine, so why-

Her heart stopped beating.

The soldiers guarding her stood petrified, with shouts and screams dead in their throats. That was impossible, wasn't it? Slowly, she reached a shaky hand towards one of her captains. Cold stone met her palm. This wasn't flesh. The clamor of murmuring soldiers had gone eerily silent.

Something was coming.

She'd never seen the imperial flagship before, and now she wished she never had. It was a monstrous ship, three times larger than the vessels below it. Sails jutted out from its sides like gruesome wings, and its mast was a jagged thorn, sending the R'lyehian flag flying into the air. Sitting on the throne, idle in the face of war, was their leader, their emperor.

"Vector," she whispered, and she tasted blood.

The creatures advanced, and one smashed a ship in half with a flick of its tail. The war had begun, and it was already a one-sided massacre.

A loud, clear clang brought her attention away from the battlefield. The bell of the war council. She shuddered as she looked at the chaos on the sea, but tore her gaze away and ran back towards her horse.

Her heels dug into the her horse time and time again, but she couldn't get there fast enough. Her knees were aching by the time she reached the council room, but she barged in, too wound up to bother caring. A map of the Poseidon shores was already laid out on the table, and every black mark for an enemy ship made her want to crumple the entire map up into a ball and throw it into the Sea. “What are those things?"

Harpyia looked the window and clicked her teeth. "I never thought I'd see those creatures again."

Merag started to yell for answers, but a memory twanged in the back of her head. "That's… that's what you meant, the day you elected me queen? Those are the snakes you were talking about?"

"Yes, and I thought they were dead," Harpyia snarled out the last word, as if it annoyed her. She quickly turned to Ondyne, who was sitting at the council table with her injured leg up on a chair. "What did you do?"

Ondyne bristled. "I didn't do anything! Why are you accusing me, anyway? Yeah, the negotiations didn't end up in their favor, but I wouldn't go and insult the emperor of R'lyeh in the middle of his own palace!" At Harpyia's incredulous stare, she tacked on a, "Well, I didn't."

"You never said what happened during the conference. Were his imperial highness' words too sharp for you? Too insulting?"

Ondyne shoved her limp leg towards her fellow duchess. "Well! If by insult you mean he shoved me down the stairs when negotiations went sour then yes, he was. I can't fire arrows like this! I can't even stand on a ship!"

"R'lyeh's royals always had horrible manners."

Merag swallowed. "Sylphie, you should be glad you came back alive."

"I know, I know. R'lyeh's not getting a single shard of our gems! Not even if the stuck up emperor doubles his price!"

Harpyia just drummed the end of her fan on the table, her pretty face turned down. "You should have at least pretended to be interested."

Ondyne fluttered her eyes and clasped her hands together as best she could. "Oh, your imperial majesty, don't worry about my leg, even if it was your fault! Sure, I'll give you all the jewels you want! Are you joking?"

"And so I assume Vector will say something like this," Harpyia said, clicking open her fan. "'Poseidon behaved rudely and was aggressive, so it's within our full right to act upon being threatened.' He'll use any excuse to demonize us."

"But that's not what happened!"

Harpyia's eyes flared, and she snapped, "Don't you understand? It doesn't matter what happened. R'lyeh just needed any reason to attack us again. You don't honestly think policy changes so easily in that country, do you? One conquerer replaces another, just how it's always been. And speaking of people that knows a thing or two about monsters, where is Blackray, anyway?" Harpyia's eyes thinned at the door. "Fine time for him to be late."

As if he was called, in walked Blackray, fully garbed in his black and orange war armor. He stood at attention in the middle of the room, ignoring the bitter gazes of the duchesses. "Forgive my lateness, your majesty. I had to make preparations. I didn't expect for us to be fighting Gods."

Ondyne jerked her head up. "What do you mean, Gods? I thought the bloodline no longer had magic!"

"So did I. But those," he looked out to the sea, "are definitely not ordinary sprits."

"But all magical talent should have perished with Lord Vector's grandmother!"

"It seems I was wrong too. Lord Asteron was a fluke. Magic can skip a generation, how rude of them." Harpyia clicked her tongue.

"So the brat has giant snakes. How do we kill them?"

Blackray shot Ondyne a trying glare. "Those 'giant snakes' are the guardian protectors of the royal family and the resident Gods of R'lyeh. Our arrows and swords won't do a thing against them."

There was a loud snap, and the wooden guard of Harpyia's fan cracked between her hands. The frown on her face was enough to make her comrades flinch. The only things that can defeat magic and monsters are magic and monsters. There's no way that we could convince the emperor to stop his assault- surrendering's the same as death."

The duke let out an amused snort. "I never thought I'd agree with you so much in a short period of time. But I don't suppose any of you have magical talents. So, I decided to call the one person who's actually qualified to talk about these kinds of things. Where did he get off to, it shouldn't take that long to gather…"

The doors creaked open, and Nasch walked in with his arms overflowing with scrolls, and Durbe right on his heels.

"…Ah. Perfect timing, your eminence."

Merag ran to her brother's side. There were fresh bandages wrapped around his arms, and his face was dreadfully pale. The sacrifice for three days of heavy rains was not a light one, and her stomach knotted in horror. "What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you to be walking around like this!"

He gave her a trying look. "Stop joking around. I'll be fine after a quick nap. Dealing with the clergy's practically a war council every day."

The moment Durbe stepped into the room, Ondyne nearly fell out of her chair trying to stand up. "You know you can't be in here, right?"

He put on his politest smile. "Forgive me for intruding, but please let me help. I've stood on my king's war council before. I can contribute to your strategies."

"Sir knight, I know you're really helpful, but this is still a council room and we can't allow foreigners into the talks."

Blackray stepped forward. "As much as we are grateful for the offer, our situation is very delicate. You're here for diplomacy, and joining the war could mean that your king also declares war on R'lyeh."

Durbe's eyes dimmed, but he nodded politely. "I understand. Still, if any of you need my aid, please don't hesitate to call on me." He sent Nasch an encouraging look before bowing out of the room.

Nasch ungracefully dropped the scrolls onto the great table, and spread one out. "The moment Blackray told me about the creatures, I remembered an old legend from the temple archives." He pointed to a picture, and if Merag looked hard enough, she could make out one of the dreadful creatures in the ink swirls. "The old texts call them Gorgons, or Gorgonics."

"Gorgonic… guardians?" Merag mumbled.

Nasch nodded. "They were first recorded in a kingdom far to the West, where the youngest was badly injured."

"How badly?"

"Her head was cut off."

Harpyia raised an eyebrow at that, but all Merag could say was, "'She'?"

"Yes. She. The Gorgons are a group of three sisters. According to the text, anyone that looks into their eyes turns to stone, but it's clear they've perfected their magic since then. It doesn't say anything about a cure." His finger found an old passage at the end of the scroll, and his eyes lit up. "But! Here it says that the hero that cut off the Gorgon's head managed to get close to her by looking at her reflection in a reflecting shield. Staring straight at her would have petrified him, but her reflection was safe."

"Not even decapitation can kill those monsters, huh?" Ondyne clicked her tongue. "But I guess as long as they can't turn our soldiers to stone, it's worth a shot?"

Merag was only half listening. Reflecting shields. She snapped her fingers. "Glass, no- mirrors! Sylphie, can you get as many mirrors as you possibly can and send them to Blackray's armory?"

Ondyne handed a servant a scribbled note and sent him scurrying out of the room. "Done and done. I'll need a few hours to gather them all and send them to Despoine, though."

"And I'll need a day for certain to modify the shields." Blackray hummed and crossed his arms. "I can make a hundred in one day, but you'll have to wait for longer if you need more than that."

That wasn't nearly enough, but what choice did she have? Merag shook her head. "I doubt Vector is going to sit idly while we make preparations."

"Quite right he won't," Harpyia looked out the window at the black dots on the horizon. "Send more ships out there. They'll be our decoys."

Merag slammed her fist on the table, sending scrolls clattering to the floor. "No! Out there? We don't know how to kill those things!"

"We can't take any chances," her cousin replied, stone faced and rough toned.

"They'll be slaughtered! Am I supposed to send statues back to their families? Those are brave men and women out there, and you're telling me to let them die?"

"I am!" Harpyia yelled, and Merag bit back her curses. "If we don't continue sending out ships, Lord Vector will see that as a chance to advance. We can't fight his monsters andhis men. That boy is not his father. Anyone that does or might rise up against is slaughtered the moment he wins. If we don't have some front, they will swarm us, and we will lose. And all of us will die. Do you understand that?"

She grimaced, and knotted her words deep into her stomach.

"They're only attacking Telos right now," Ondyne stepped in, "Rhode, Despoine, and Arion all have their ports open to continue trade as normal. We can funnel any needed supplies into Telos through the joined sea. But if Telos falls, we all fall."

"Sylphie-"

Ondyne shook her head. "I'm with Harpyia on this one. Until we know how to take down those snakes, we can't let Lord Vector’s armada come any closer.”

Merag chewed her tongue and looked bitterly out to the battlefield. The grotesque figures of those monsters jutted out of the sea, and the smoke rising from her burnt ships had started to stain the sky. "Send out my weakest vessels, but arm every soldier."

Harpyia's hand on Merag's shoulder came as a surprise. Her cousin was always cold to touch, but now Merag found it a harsh comfort that calmed her heart. Her teeth dug into her lip until the skin split.

She begrudgingly sent out the order.

* * *

 

The golden armor fit her much better now, but was still a little heavy on her limbs. She'd chased out every servant that offered to help her. If she couldn't do most of this by herself, then how could she possibly walk into a war?

Nasch had insisted on helping her, but she was in charge of her cape and necklace. He leaned against her mirror with his arms crossed. "You really do enjoy doing these dangerous things, don't you?"

Merag cast a glare his way, and pinned her blue cape around her neck. "I'm sending people out to die. The least I could do is lead them myself."

Her brother frowned back. "Even against Gods?"

"I can do it." She took her metal blue emblem and secured it around her waist. The thin ruby clanked against the steel tassets around her hips. A prickle of doubt made her clamp her jaw, but she turned away and assured herself with a, "Even against Gods." Nasch looked doubtful, and she gave him a look. "What?"

"…When you have those mirror shields yes, but until then? You're going out there defenseless."

"Brother, I know what you're doing. Stop it."

"If you know what I'm doing, then you know I'm not going to."

They didn't need to be having this argument now of all times, but there was little she could do to stop it. "I have to do this."

She heard him sigh. "Right. So here we are again, with you not watching out for yourself."

"Excuse me?" She whirled around and stomped her foot on the ground, hard. "Don't you understand? I'm a queen. Those are my people that I ordered to go be shields against those creatures. Two hundred men, and two hundred statues I won't be able to fish out of the sea! And I'm not taking care of myself because I want them to know that I'm there for them? This is my duty."

"It's not. Your duty is to stay alive. Go beat that smug emperor into pulp- but do it when you have some way to defend yourself! This isn't like last time. These are Gods, not humans! Gods with powers you don't even know how defend yourself against!"

That was enough. "Why don't you understand?" She didn't raise her voice or start yelling like her brother. Her voice became deadly calm, and every word was a sharp icicle. “…And now you know how I feel whenever I see you come back with a new scar on your arm."

Nasch's anger rivaled the gathering storm outside, even as his hand flew to the bandages on one of his arms. "You know very well Abyss needs my blood to be satisfied."

"As if that ever mattered to me." She was too frozen to revel in the moment of shock on her brother's face. "You think I care for some God that makes you come back with more and more scars? He didn't keep this invasion away. Some protector God, sending a storm that didn't even help at all."

The horror on Nasch's face was enough to send his fury temporarily receding. He opened his mouth with a question on his lips, but he knew she was too firm to budge. "He told me. I told you in time. Being the high priest is no joke, Merag. You think I enjoy mutilating myself? I have to do it! Every high priest and priestess for Abyss has done it before me. This isn't something I thought up on my own! And that is my burden."

"Oh, is that how he told you? By making you scream and pass out for half a day? He does nothing but hurt you, so Abyss can go rot. Stop trying to contradict me. You're not helping me, and you're not going to help the soldiers that are going to die soon."

"That wasn't hi-" A pause hung between them, and Nasch pulled the ceremonial veils further over his face. "Whatever. I guess I'll say a few good luck prayers."

Guilt cracked her heart. Merag let out a small sound and her shoulders slumped. The frigid fury she held hard in her heart quickly melted and she clasped her brother's shoulder before he could escape. "…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know you're just worried about me, but this…" She bit her lips. "It's still my responsibility."

She couldn't see Nasch's face beneath layers of white, but she could still hear his voice. "Can't you do this some other way?"

Merag shook her head and took his hand into hers. "I'm not going to die. I promise."

Layers of silk rustled in front of her as Nasch pulled his veils back up. "You'd better not break that."

"You know I always keep my promises."

"And that's why you only drank one of my bottles of wine, right?"

A nervous smile crept up her face. "We can talk about that after I chase away Vector, okay?"

Nasch sighed, and reached into his robes to pull out his dagger. When she flinched back, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze before breaking contact. "You're up against some crazy Gods." He slid his finger along the dagger. His bloodied finger slid along her breastplate, and in the mirror Merag could make out half-formed sigils of Crystal Zero and Abyss Splash. When he was done, he looked it over once before bandaging his finger. "Better to have the protection of our Gods with you. Whether you want one of them to rot or not."

Merag tried laughing, but her eyes kept falling back to the bloody strokes in her reflection. "I'll be fine. Honestly."

He peered at her armor, and fiddled with one of the ropes. "Why did you tie these like this? If I pulled really hard, this whole knot would come loose."

She patted his shoulder. "Don't worry about that." When he picked up his basket of powders, she quickly plucked one out. "You use these a lot during ceremonies, right? Lend me some, I'll need as many distractions as I can."

Nasch frowned and grabbed it back. "No way. You don't know what these things do. If you mix them wrong, they'll explode."

“Exactly. It’s perfect!”

“No is no.”

She pouted, but wrapped him in a tight embrace. He sighed before he hugged her back. "Watch over me, okay?

"I will."

When his guard was down, she shoved a finger in his face. "And get some rest!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "I can spare a half hour nap."

"You're unbelievable."

She escorted Nasch back to his room- knowing her brother, he'd stay on the balcony all day, watching the battle from afar.

Just as she thought she could leave quietly, Durbe caught her before she left the castle grounds, fully garbed in his armor. "I'm coming with you. I only need a minute to get Makha ready."

She sputtered in surprise. "No, you're not!"

"Of course I am. You're my friend! I'm not letting you go out without any sort of defensive plan."

"Who told you- my brother. Of course." Merag shook her head and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you fight. This is an international affair. You're still not from Poseidon, Durbe."

"But I'm a knight. A soldier! It's my job to fight. And I might as well fight for you!"

"No is no. I can't risk Vector attacking your home once I drive him off."

"He's already attacking my _home_ ," Durbe bitterly replied. "I can help, even if you don't want me to fight. Makha can fly you out if the battlefield gets too rough."

Merag gave him a sad smile. "Thank you. Really, thank you. But my answer is still the same."

His face fell, and she clapped him on the shoulder. "Can you watch over my brother for me instead? I'd be more than grateful if you did that."

Durbe pursed his lips, but bowed politely. "If that's what you wish."

"Thank you, Durbe."

The walk alone to the docks was a quiet one.

Soldiers shuffled onto the war ships with spears in their hands and their hearts in their throats. Merag stood at the head, leading the vanguard once again to a hopeless battle. She gave her practiced speech to rouse their morale, but the moment she finished her troops grew deathly silent. They sat quietly below the decks and whispered in the dark. She said this battle was important, but every man and woman knew they were going to die.

The flag of Poseidon unfurled, and the ropes of toy ships were pulled taut.

Vector had about three times as many ships she could afford to send out at the moment. Those otherworldly stone serpents were nowhere in sight, but she had no doubt they'd emerge the moment her feet came close.

This was nothing short of a cruel joke, but she couldn't afford to show even a second of weakness.

Her ship sounded the war horn. The attack was on.

They had a favorable wind, and the heavy storm clouds hadn't broken overhead. The line swept out into the sea, towards the files of R'lyehian vessels. Her archers pulled arrows from their quivers and strung their bows, ready to fire at any moment. Oars cut through the water and left a trail of white behind the ships. She couldn't afford to be leisurely now- the sooner Vector realized reinforcements were coming, the sooner he'd dispatch those awful creatures.

A shadow slithered underwater. She spotted a red glow beneath her ship and shouted out to prepare for battle. The words had just left her mouth when braided snakes rocketed into the air and plunged through flesh and wood. Stone tails were all around her fleet. She saw a wreath of coils spring up around the ship next to her and crush the boat in half. The end of its tail hissed through the air and pierced another ship from bow to stern.

The creatures had arrived.

She didn't see their next victims, but she heard the great smash of a ship being forced underwater. One of her ships was aflame, and another rammed its bow into one of the creature's stomachs. Not even that seemed to bother the creatures. What… complete monsters.

"Fire," she ordered, and sent a volley of arrows towards one of the creatures as it reached to pick up one of her ships like it was a fascinating toy. It hissed and swung its tail at her, knocking the mast clean in half and sending it flying into the sea. Splinters rained down on her, and one pierced her cape.

A cold sweat ran down her neck. The creatures had emerged much closer than they dared to come last time- why?

Vector.

She whirled around towards the towering vessel and the sneering monster laughing atop it. Generals or no generals, his soldiers would stop the moment their emperor was in danger.

"Turn the ship towards the imperial flagship!" she yelled. "We're going after Vector!"

Oars beat against the water, and her ship rushed forward. A flash of brown whistled down from overhead, but caught the ship beside her instead. She grimaced, but tore her gaze away. No time for regrets. Keep rowing towards the red sails- if she could damage Vector's ship even a little, then she had won.

A jolt sent her stumbling, and she clutched the rail to keep herself from falling overboard. Three red claws had latched onto the back of the ship, and no amount of rowing could break it free. A loud crack of splintering wood hit her ears as one of the creatures tore off half the rail and shook the boat. It peered over the edge of the ship as it rose up to its full height. She spotted a jagged discoloration around its neck, too straight to be a normal scar, and flinched as it looked at her. One of its eyes glowed bright blue, and she braced herself.

That same chill from before washed over her, but when she opened her eyes, she was fine. All around her stood statues of her soldiers, and she winced. She whispered an apology before turning her fury towards the creature still clutching the side of her ship.

It looked at her and tilted its head. Behind her, its tail splashed out of the water and prodded Merag's head. Without a second to waste, she spun around and smashed her sword into its tail. Her blade cracked against the stone, but it retracted its tail and dove underwater.

Beyond her ship, she could see the other two creatures lashing out against her fleet. Wood splintered and the screams of the dying pierced her ears, and she had to turn away. In her retreat, she caught sight of her petrified soldiers and her hands started to shake. She'd expected this, but seeing it unfold before her made her want to howl until she couldn't scream any more.

The imperial flagship advanced, and Merag dashed to the steering wheel. Her fingers wound around the wheel and spun it as hard as she could. She didn't turn it fast enough to avoid the advancing battleship completely, and its armored sides knocked off the figurehead and shredded the remaining railing into splinters.

Then, it stopped.

A line of hooks slung down and notched onto the rail of her ship, and panic flooded her stomach. She ran over, ready to pry each one off and throw them into the sea, but the enemy had already started coming down.

An army of faceless soldiers stared at her. All brutish, identical pawns robbed of their identities. Which one was the general this time? She felt that old red scrap between her fingers again, but its owner had long sunk to the bottom of the ocean. They advanced, and she plunged her sword through one soldier's neck. She was alone, but the blood was cold in her veins, and she'd kill as many as possible before she'd allow them to lay a hand on her.

Three lay dead at her feet before they knocked her sword away and wrestled her arms behind her. One stumbled backwards when she slammed her head into his. By the time they dragged her onto the royal flagship, she was stuck full of splinters and littered with bruises.

A ring of soldiers kept her in place, and if she much as moved, a spear was thrust in her face. Nobody said a word to her, or even cast a look her way. She stood with her arms behind her back and blood filling her mouth.

They hauled a Poseidon soldier onto the ship and shoved him down. He was bleeding badly, but very much alive. "My lady," he coughed out.

"How did you survive?" she whispered back.

"Below the deck. I'm sorry... I couldn't make it up in time..."

"All right. Just… stay calm."

The moment Vector stepped onto the deck, all of his soldiers bowed. His steps were heavy on the floorboards, and she could have sworn she heard them scream as they creaked beneath him. Her eyes caught the creature by his side, with three purple heads and stone paws. Its yellow eyes gleamed and it growled the moment it caught her stare. Vector stopped before her and smiled.

"Merag. It's been a while."

"Vector. I'm honored to have a god incarnate grace my presence," she spat out. She's heard the rumors, as ridiculous as they were.

The Mad Emperor, still a prince in the eyes of those who accused him of parricide. There was never any proof, but how else could both his parents have died in one night and leave the throne to this twisted conquerer? She could tell he was impressive from afar, but up close, he was a force in himself. The soft, boyish charm he had as a child had been stripped away and left an intensity that burned her. For a moment, she couldn't remember why she was standing there.

His stare was strong enough to hold her steady, so she shot back an equally vicious glare. If he didn't want her to move, then she wouldn't allow him to retreat either.

When she didn't bow, one of his soldiers knocked the butt of his spear against the back of her head, and she nearly bit off her tongue when her teeth clattered together. Even with the blossoming pain in her skull, she raised her head and spat out blood. "Well? Are you here to kill me?"

A wicked grin crawled up his cheeks. "You really think that I would've dragged you all the way up here for that? If I wanted you dead, my archers would have shot you the moment my ship came close."

"Then call of those creatures of yours."

Vector laughed. "Do you really think you're in any position to give me orders?"

"I bet you're the only one that's able to control those things, so yes, I do."

"You bet." He parroted, "Oh, that's funny. At least you acknowledge that you're completely helpless. Pretending like you've seen this sort of thing before- how cute. You're not going to ask me how I do my magic? Something like this must be so shocking for someone mundane like you."

His question was so sudden that Merag nearly spat out a curse on reflex. She had to think for a moment. Why wasn't she surprised? Nasch with his precognition and his link to Abyss couldn't summon huge creatures like this. "It doesn't matter," she finally said, "I've never seen anything like them, but if they threaten my kingdom and my people, then they're just things to take down. Like your army, and just like you."

She didn't expect him to be delighted with her answer, and he smiled so earnestly she couldn't help but shiver in discomfort.

"So what do you want?" she asked irritably.

"An offering. I'll give you a chance to save yourself. Unconditional surrender. If you do so now, I won't turn Poseidon into a sea of blood."

Merag ground her teeth. He was making fun of her, questioning her leadership, laughing at the very integrity of Poseidon. "Of all the things you could possibly suggest! Do you honestly think those terms are acceptable? You-"

And then it occurred to her.

"Unless you don't… do you?"

She put on her ladylike smile, sharpened through countless parties and congregations. "What a charming ploy, lord emperor. Now you can claim to be the first to negotiate. If you miraculously win this siege, then you can say I callously declined your offer. Sorry, but a trick like that won't work on me."

Vector didn't say a word. Slowly, a dark chuckle pierced the silence, and he doubled over laughing. "Interesting!" he clutched his stomach and madness turned his pleasant smile into a horrible grin. "You're a lot of fun, Merag! I wouldn't have it any other way! Much better than those worthless kings. Still, a mundane girl like you getting captured like this is really, really boring."

Her soldier moved. He knocked a R'lyehian soldier over, and grabbed his spear, took aim at Vector and threw. It shot towards him, and she followed it with her eyes, more than glad to see this miracle pierce Vector's heart.

She grew a little paler.

Vector watched the spear thoughtfully with a small smile on his lips, as if its very existence amused him. That wasn't the face of a man caught off guard. The three-headed creature whipped one of its heads forward, and caught the spear in its jaws. The handle splintered between its teeth, and Vector laughed.

"Ah, too bad! You can try again, if you want!" A second attack never came, and she could see her soldier trembling. "Oh well." Vector jerked his chin forward. "Beat him to death."

An awful scream pierced her ears and she twisted on her heels. Merag tried to move to help, but before she could get even close, the guards' blades were at her throat. A curse flew into her throat, but a sickening crack of shattering bone stopped it in place. The pained screams silenced, and one of the soldiers swung his sword back to clean it. The handle was slicked with blood, and her stomach churned with bile.

The three-headed canine advanced, and she wished she had the freedom to cover her ears. Every munch and visceral squish sent a chill down her spine. Finally, it let out a gleeful bark, and white fangs dripped with blood. One of its heads chewed on a severed arm, armor and all. It padded back to its master, lazily rolling its tongues. The moment it passed her by, she rammed her foot into its side.

Her toes were an ocean of pain, and it took all her strength to not yelp. The creature dropped its snack and growled, snapping its jaws at her. Spittle foamed behind its bared teeth and dropped onto the deck with a deadly hiss.

"Stop, Cerberus." Vector gave the creature a scratch on the head. “Well?” When she shot him a glare, he laughed. “I guess that's a no."

She kept a brave smile, but a bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

One of his soldiers bent down to whisper in his emperor's ear. Vector looked up and grinned while the rest of his soldiers were busy chattering amongst themselves. "Looks like your backup finally decided to get close. And you couldn't have picked better spectator seats."

Her ships with blue sails rushed closer and closer. She kept her eyes wide and her lips trembling. She could make out the curve of her coat of arms when Vector flicked his finger forward.

Five serpentine Gorgons burst from the water with a horrible moan. Their eyes gleamed bright blue and beams of light shot towards her ships. The shimmer of mirrors caught her eye, and she formed a gasp on her lips. The mirrors caught the light in their surfaces and threw them back. Too surprised to fire back or dodge, the Gorgons were engulfed in the light they'd cast on a thousand people. Their scales dimmed and grew cold and gray. Cracks formed deep from their core to their skin, and they imploded into tattered flesh and severed limbs.

The backlash rocked the ships, and she nearly stumbled over. The R'lyehian soldiers were paralyzed with surprise, and Vector doubled over, clutching his head and gritting his teeth. She wanted to strike him, but the canine creature by his side stood firm and wrapped a long neck around its master's side.

"I'd rather die," she growled, just loud enough for Vector to hear.

With one tug, she undid the fastens on her armor and sent the pieces clattering to the floor. One of the soldiers tried to grab her, but she left him gripping one of her empty gauntlets. She had no time to slow down before she hit the railing, and quickly vaulted over, keeping her heels balanced on the deck. The sea loomed menacingly below her. She had miscalculated- this was definitely a substantial drop.

Thunderous footsteps pounded on the floorboards. The R'lyehian soldiers would be upon her in a matter of seconds. A deep breath. Blood hardened to ice.

The wind caught in her hair, and the deck dropped away from her feet. She met the water with a cold smash, and sunk into its depths. Which way was up? Which way was down? Sea salt stung her lungs and she panicked, kicking her legs until she met cool air. She sputtered and coughed out water, and clung to a piece of driftwood. Her wrists hummed with pain, the fall had been harder than she expected.

Shouts sounded behind her, and the gleam of the R'lyehian soldiers raising their spears caught her eye. Down she dove beneath the water's surface as spears hurtled past her. When she broke the surface again, they were notching their bows. An arrow nicked her side underwater, and her side burned. The sea salt eating into her wound made her want to howl in agony, but she clamped her teeth firmly together. If she screamed now, the sea wouldn't offer her any air.

An arrow just missed her head as she came up for air. Harpyia's ship with its dark blue sails was the closest, and she swam towards it as fast as she could until her soldiers could pull her up, soaking but still alive.

"She got away," growled one of the R'lyehian soldiers, as he kicked one of her gauntlets overboard. A panic shot into his eyes and he dropped to his knees. "L-Lord Vector! We greatly apologize for this disgrace-"

One of the R'lyehian masked admirals quietly knelt before his emperor in front of his subordinate. "Your orders?"

"Shut up." Vector clawed at Cerberus' side, using the creature's necks to hoist himself up. His body was drenched in a cold sweat, and he had to keep one hand on the monster's back to keep himself standing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose. A long deep breath that made his soldiers go silent.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and rested on Cerberus' back. "They're fine."

“It was wise to have sent out the doubles. I pray for their continued safety, my lord," the admiral replied.

"Then your prayers have been heard. They're stunned from the backlash, but they're still alive. We're not done." Vector chewed on his nails and scanned the group gathered on the water. His body still trembled, but he broke into laughter that made all of his soldiers flinch. "She really did it. She actually used herself as a decoy."

The soldiers were abuzz with concerned murmurs. "Without the noble Guardians, it's hopeless!" one cried out a little too loudly.

Vector twisted towards the man who spoke, his lips set in a taut line. "Hopeless?" Each one of his steps were a dull quake in itself.

The soldier tried to subtly squirm away, but between the railing and his emperor, there was nowhere to move. He opened his mouth to protest, but reconsidered it the moment he spotted Vector's vicious glare boring up at him.

Vector drew his sword and slid his palm along the edge. All apologies seemed to fall on deaf ears. He glided his bloodied finger along the man's chest, forming sloping, undecipherable words from a language long forgotten. His soldiers stared in confusion, but none of them dared protest.

An admiral finally spoke up. "My lord, you shouldn't shed your blood. What are you doing?"

Vector gave the marked soldier a smile through blood speckled lips. "Do you really think it's hopeless?"

"I meant no offense-"

Before anyone could blink, Vector drew back his sword and rammed it through the soldier's stomach. The dying man let out an ungodly groan as Vector drove the blade in up to the hilt, twisting it through sinew and bone. Vector, snarling in madness and grinding his teeth, drove the man up the railing and with one shout, flung him overboard.

All the soldiers stepped away from their emperor, as he started to tremble with excitement. “The unbeatable goddess is on my side now!” Vector whirled towards the ranks of Poseidon ships. “You humiliated my Gods, Merag!” he screamed, “So I’m going to kill you with yours!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I unfortunately have lost the motivation to finish this, but I have compiled what I had planned for the rest of the story [here](http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1spgb66).  
> Thanks for reading this far!


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